


No More Dreaming

by Bette Bourgeois (PK_preservation_project)



Series: Dreaming [3]
Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-29
Updated: 2018-12-29
Packaged: 2019-09-30 00:11:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 24,807
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17213471
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PK_preservation_project/pseuds/Bette%20Bourgeois
Summary: Tom Paris was standing at the foot of the bed of his lover, Harry Kim, in Harry's quarters aboard Voyager. For the past hour he had been watching Harry sleep. He really should have been sleeping himself, as they were both on alpha shift this week, but he had been finding lately that his feelings about Harry had taken a decidedly serious turn. It was scaring the hell out of him and keeping him awake at night . . . well, in what passed for night in the Delta Quadrant.(c) 1997 by Bette Bourgeois





	No More Dreaming

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Leigh, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [P/K All the Way](https://fanlore.org/wiki/P/K_All_the_Way) and was moved to the AO3 as part of the Open Doors project in 2018. I tried to reach out to all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are the creator and would like to claim this work, please contact me using the e-mail address on [P/K All the Way’s collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/pkalltheway/profile).
> 
> Disclaimer: Paramount owns the rights to every fictional person, place and thing used in this story. No infringement of these rights is intended. Not to be published for profit. Not to be published without this disclaimer.
> 
> WARNING: This story is rated NC-17 for language and explicit m/m sexual content. Do not read if you are under 18 or offended by explicitly depicted sexual situations between members of the same sex.

Tom Paris was standing at the foot of the bed of his lover, Harry Kim, in Harry's quarters aboard Voyager. For the past hour he had been watching Harry sleep. He really should have been sleeping himself, as they were both on alpha shift this week, but he had been finding lately that his feelings about Harry had taken a decidedly serious turn. It was scaring the hell out of him and keeping him awake at night . . . well, in what passed for night in the Delta Quadrant.

Harry slept so peacefully, every single night; no tossing and turning like himself. Tom had always been a restless sleeper, even as a kid. His experiences with night terrors, sleepwalking and bedwetting had tortured him as a child. With years of self-discipline he had left that all behind, but he still suffered from insomnia more often than he liked.

Here he was again, same old pattern, letting his emotions disturb his much-needed rest, worrying about problems that he really had no control over, because he was very much afraid that the damage was already done. He was afraid he had actually gone and fallen in love with his handsome generous lover and best friend in the whole universe. Oh, well, there were worse fates, he acknowledged with wry humour.

Harry would be ecstatic if he ever got up enough courage to tell him. Harry was in love with Tom and had been for longer than Tom knew, maybe even since the beginning of their friendship. He should ask Harry sometime. It seemed incredible at this moment that he had never asked before now.

Tom's feelings were all new to him, and therefore unsettling and frightening in ways he couldn't have foreseen. He hadn't been scared of love the first time he thought he was in it. But then, that had been a disaster. He didn't think it had even been love. Not if what he felt for Harry was anything to go by.

What he felt now had been growing behind the scenes of their relationship so slowly that he hadn't really noticed the difference. But there was a difference; in the way he acted, in the way he treated Harry, in the way he thought about himself. God, was he actually finally growing up? Tom's thoughts amused him for a moment and he grinned. B'Elanna will be *so* relieved, he thought.

Tom's first inkling that things had changed drastically inside his head came when something happened one evening just over a week ago in Sandrine's.

Harry and B'Elanna had been watching Tom and the Captain play a nice friendly game of pool. It had quickly gotten competitive. Tom finally had to pull out all the stops. He had flawlessly executed an extremely difficult shot to beat her. Tom and the Captain were pretty evenly matched when it came to pool skills and Tom loved it when he managed to win in a particularly spectacular fashion. The Captain had been so impressed she had actually shaken Tom's hand, in a teasingly congratulatory manner.

Then Megan Delaney had appeared at Tom's elbow and before he knew what was happening she had fastened her mouth on his and was kissing him, both hands locked on his face, her mouth sucking at his, her body leaning against him so blatantly that he'd had to grab her around the waist to stop her from toppling them both to the floor. As soon as Tom had managed to get Megan's weight back on her own two feet he'd pulled her hands away and broke the kiss, holding her away from him as she laughed up at him delightedly.

"Wow, Tom! That was some shot! And that was *some* kiss, too, eh?!" Megan had leered at him suggestively. She'd tried to move closer to Tom, but he still held her hands and had used them to keep her at a discreet distance. He hadn't dared to look at Harry or B'Elanna.

The problem was Harry had made Tom agree to keep the fact that they were lovers a secret. Tom hadn't had a problem with that. Right at the beginning he had even had vague thoughts of occasionally still dating women while sleeping with Harry, a ridiculous idea as it turned out. Sex with Harry had been *so* good, and the time they spent alone together had been so comfortable, that he hadn't even noticed that women had disappeared from his personal life completely.

He had certainly realized it later that week, going over the scene in Sandrine's in his head, trying to figure out exactly what was happening in his life and why. He had been slightly stunned at some of the conclusions he'd reached. But all he knew at that moment in Sandrine's was that he was mad as hell at Megan Delaney and horribly embarrassed that she had kissed him like that in front of his lover. Of course, that had been another part of the problem. Megan hadn't any idea Harry and Tom were lovers.

He thought B'Elanna knew something. He wasn't sure exactly what, but he thought Harry had told her something. She'd given him the occasional speculative look, but she hadn't said anything to him. All he really cared about was that she continued to treat them the same as always. In fact, the relationship between the three of them appeared virtually unchanged to the view of outsiders. They were just three friends who spent a lot of time together.

And all Megan Delaney had known was that it had been a long time since Tom had made any advances in her direction. She had been bored, at a loose end, and determined to make him notice her again.

"What the *hell* do you think you're doing, Megan!" Tom had berated the woman. He had been about to give her another blast when he'd felt someone grab his arm in a bone-crunching grip and had turned to see Harry glaring at him, his face only inches away.

"Don't you dare," Harry had growled under his breath. He'd continued to glare into Tom's eyes until Tom's look of astonishment had changed to one of comprehension.

Of course, Tom had thought, he doesn't want me to tell her to keep her hands off of Harry's lover. For a minute, anger had spiked in Tom as well. Why couldn't he tell Megan Delaney to lay off with the femme fatale routine around him? Why couldn't he tell her he wasn't interested in playing those kind of games with anyone but Harry? He was fifty percent of this relationship, wasn't he? Didn't he have the right?

Tom had felt a crazy impulse to pull Megan back into his arms and lock his lips to hers in a kiss that would've knocked *anyone's* socks off, just to make Harry angry. Maybe if he made Harry jealous, shook him up a bit, he would see how ridiculous this sneaking around had become. At the time, Tom didn't question his motives in wanting to do something like that. The idea had come to him almost instinctively.

He hadn't done it. He had known that beneath the anger, Harry was already upset enough. He had felt him trembling with it. All he'd wanted to do in that moment, when he felt the tremour pass from Harry into him, was to gather Harry into his arms and hold him tight. It had been another impulse that he accepted without question. It just felt so natural.

Harry had stepped back as if he'd seen the desire in Tom's eyes. Maybe he had. He'd walked back around the pool table and started to gather the balls for another game. He'd ignored Tom's and B'Elanna's stares.

Tom had turned back to Megan. What could he say to her that would keep her from doing something like that again, yet not give the game away? Ah, he had it. That old Paris standby, rudeness. Usually worked just as effectively as that other old Paris standby, charm. He'd grinned to himself.

"Megan, if you're going to go around vacuuming an unsuspecting guy's mouth, the least you could do is give him some warning. I think you actually loosened some fillings in my teeth," Tom had cradled his jaw in one palm and had massaged it, wincing.

"Why you . . ." Megan had spluttered in disbelief. "You . . . pig! You're even more insufferable than ever!"

"Why Megan, thank you," he'd smirked at her and bowed graciously from the waist. "The feeling is entirely mutual."

Megan had glared at him. She'd clenched one hand, feeling an itch to smack the sorry grin off of his face with it. But a glance around at their interested audience had changed her mind. She'd turned and stalked out of Sandrine's, head held high.

Tom had turned back to survey Harry's reaction. His lover's face had been a blank mask. He'd continued to take his time arranging the balls in the triangle to some specific order he desired. B'Elanna had been grinning like a she-devil behind the veil of her hand, trying hard to only giggle and not laugh as uproariously as she'd wished. Her laughter had calmed when she'd seen the expression on Tom's face as he'd stared at Harry. They had both ended up staring at Harry, who had continued to ignore them. He had rearranged the balls over and over again for the next few minutes before he'd finally looked up at Tom.

"I think I'll call it a night, B'Elanna," he'd said, looking straight at Tom.

"Sure, Harry," B'Elanna had known this was coming. "See you tomorrow." Impulsively she'd leaned close to him and kissed him on the cheek.

Harry had looked up, startled, and met her eyes. Something in her expression had made him smile and he'd said, "Thanks, B'Elanna." He had glanced at Tom, his face unreadable and had then started to make his way out of the holodeck.

Tom had reached out as he passed and grabbed Harry's arm to stop him. "Harry . . ." Tom had wanted Harry to give him some clue to how he felt. He hadn't liked the closed look on Harry's face. For some strange reason it had frightened him, but he hadn't dwelt on that. He'd just wanted Harry to speak to him.

Harry had just looked into Tom's eyes and said, "Let go, Tom." Then he'd waited, eyes on Tom's hand, for Tom to release him.

Tom had stared at Harry's lowered eyes. He'd dropped Harry's arm and watched him leave the holodeck. Then he'd heard B'Elanna's voice in his ear saying, "Follow him, you idiot. He just doesn't want to put his emotions on display like Megan did." She'd given him a nudge in the back that pushed him towards the door. "Go!" she'd growled. Tom had thrown her a startled look, was going to ask her what the hell she was implying, then thought better of it and followed after Harry.

The turbolift doors had just been closing on Harry when Tom got to them. He'd slammed his hand on the closed doors and keyed it again. While he'd waited he'd thought about B'Elanna's words. It appeared she knew more about his relationship with Harry than he'd thought. Had Harry really told her that they were lovers; after all his lectures to keep it between themselves?

He'd finally found himself outside Harry's quarters keying the doorchime. Harry had called 'enter' almost immediately. He'd obviously known who was waiting outside. Damn, Tom had thought in some small detached part of his consciousness. Am I becoming that predictable? Am I reduced to running after Harry? Why?

There had been a strained silence between them for several long minutes while Harry stood and looked at the stars through his viewport and Tom hovered just inside the door. Why am I acting so nervous? Tom had questioned himself. What's going on here? Harry and I have been *lovers* for two whole months, for crying out loud. Why the hell am I getting cold feet now?

"Harry," Tom had finally found his voice. "Why the hurry? Anyone would think you felt you had to escape or something."

Harry wouldn't turn away from the port. "I don't like it when you touch me in public. You know that. So why did you do it?" His voice had been very low; a strained growl, barely under control.

"I didn't touch you," Tom had argued. "Not like that."

"It doesn't matter *how* you touched me, Tom," Harry had argued right back. "You *know* I want to keep this relationship a secret."

Tom had stepped a little closer. "All I did was hold onto your arm and try to make you stay. You were leaving kind of abruptly, you know."

"That's all it takes with *your* reputation," Harry had complained, finally turning. He'd looked angry, his jaw tight, his eyes dark, his mouth a severe line.

Tom had just stared, slack-jawed with surprise and half-insulted. "Are you afraid someone will call you easy if they know you're sleeping with me?" he'd taunted in defense. "You should have thought of that before we became lovers, don't you think?"

Harry had looked as if he might be gritting his teeth, but no sound came from his jaw. "No," he'd denied forcefully, refusing to be baited or diverted from his concerns. "I just want my private life kept private. You agreed that we could do that."

Tom had looked away from Harry's anger. Why does this have to be so hard? Why couldn't Harry relax a bit? "Yeah, I know," Tom had agreed, "but I still don't understand why. Are you ashamed to be seen with me?"

"No," Harry had heaved a sigh. "Everyone knows that we're friends," he'd conceded, sounding weary.

Tom had stared at Harry. Harry's anger had disappeared, just like that. It was as if it had been forced somehow, a show, not real anger at all. But, if it hadn't been anger, what had it been?

"But you don't want them to know that we're lovers?" Tom had asked. He couldn't figure out what the big deal was. He didn't care if the crew knew he had a male lover. If anything, it would enhance rather than detract from his reputation.

A strange thought had hit him. Maybe Harry objected to Tom's reputation. Maybe he was afraid they would see him as just another Tom-conquest. Was that what Harry was to Tom; a conquest? The question to his subconscious had stopped Tom in his tracks. Then he had been jolted back by Harry's voice.

"No," Harry hadn't looked at Tom. His voice had been quiet, determined. "The less people who know the better."

"Why?" The question had seemed to burst out of Tom without thought or volition.

Harry had looked Tom straight in the eyes. "Because I don't want to be humiliated in front of the whole crew when you dump me."

There had been an entire minute of complete silence while the lovers stared at each other. It took Tom that long to recover from the shock of Harry's words and to formulate how he wanted to answer the implications behind Harry's statement.

"Harry," Tom's voice had been slightly strangled with the strain. "I'm *not* going to dump you. Don't be ridiculous." Tom's voice had been raised in incredulity.

He couldn't believe that Harry had thought Tom could end their relationship so callously if it didn't work out. At the same time, a voice inside him had quietly asked, why not? Why should Harry think anything else when his lover is Tom Paris?

Shit! Tom had groaned inwardly, realizing the validity of Harry's fears. The reputation that had protected Tom so well from messy emotional entanglements was now threatening a relationship that Tom wasn't ready to give up on. What could he say to convince Harry that leaving was not on his mind; was, in fact, the furthest thing from it?

"Maybe not tonight, or tomorrow," Harry had countered.

Tom had stepped forward and clasped Harry's shoulders. "Not this week or next week or even next month." Tom's voice had been quiet, but firm; resolute. "C'mon Harry . . ." he'd started to cajole, hoping a gentle smile would reassure.

Harry hadn't been quite ready to believe. "What about next year then?"

God, Tom had thought, he's already thinking in terms of years?! Tom had felt nerves start to erode the quiet feeling of certainty he'd just been enjoying. He knew he wanted to remain lovers with Harry. He was happy being lovers with Harry. But *years* . . .?

Tom had raised his eyebrows in query. "Harry," Tom had cautioned, "I thought we said . . ."

"We'd take it one day at a time," Harry had broken in resignedly. "Yeah, I know."

Tom had let his hands slide down the length of Harry's arms to his hands, which he'd taken in a loose grasp. "Aren't you happy, Harry?" he'd questioned gently. "Isn't this what you wanted?"

Harry had tightened his hands on Tom's, squeezing them in his. "Yeah," he'd agreed. "It is." He had heaved a sigh. "It's more than I dreamed I'd ever have." A tiny smile had appeared to quirk up the corner of his lips. "More than I deserve, probably."

"Harry, don't talk like that," Tom had told him. He'd been feeling much more comfortable then. Harry had been touching him and there had been a smile not only curving Harry's mouth, but growing slowly in Harry's eyes. "You deserve the best," Tom had said with quiet conviction, just acknowledging it to himself at the same time. "You're a very lovable guy," Tom had smiled at him.

There had been a stunned silence as Harry stared at Tom. Oh, shit! Tom had wondered what he'd said. He had thought he was being reassuring.

"Then why don't you love me, Tom?" Harry had whispered, almost afraid to broach the sensitive subject. He'd seemed to silently berate himself for doing it, but couldn't help himself.

"Harry . . ." Tom's voice had been a strange mixture of fear and confusion. All he had known was that he hadn't wanted to talk about it.

Harry had stared at Tom, waiting to see if his lover would say anything else besides his name in that strangled tone. It hadn't seemed likely after a few moments of silence dragged on and on.

"It's just sex for you, isn't it, Tom?" Harry had tried to keep from sounding hurt, but failed miserably. He seemed to figure that he didn't deserve to sound hurt. Tom had never promised anything *but* sex.

As soon as Harry had said it, Tom had realized that it wasn't true. "No, Harry," he'd denied quietly. "It isn't just the sex."

Harry had looked quietly stunned wondering what Tom could have meant? He'd taken another minute to speculate about it. "But the sex is the biggest part," he'd stated conclusively.

Tom had grinned. He'd stood there smiling at Harry with a wry and knowing look in his eyes and he didn't speak until he'd seen an answering smile start to form on Harry's lips. "Well, I'd be lying if I said no to that. You'd know it was a lie. The sex is great, Harry."

They'd chuckled together for a moment. In the slightly relaxed atmosphere, Tom had pulled Harry over towards the bedroom. He had been practically dragging him, but at least Harry moved. He had known that if he could get Harry onto the bed, and his body into full contact with Harry's, that the conversation would end quickly with a very satisfying conclusion. Tom thought that they had discussed their relationship enough. It had been time for some positive reinforcement.

Harry hadn't come quietly though. He had still wanted to talk. He'd known what Tom wanted. He'd known what they were heading towards. He had been hoping to get a few more things straightened out before they actually hit the bed. By then he wouldn't care any more either.

"What if you get tired of having sex with me? What if you want to go back to having sex with women?" Harry had resisted the pull towards the bed, trying to voice his concerns while he'd still had some time.

"Harry, I don't want to have sex with anyone but you right now," Tom had stated what he thought was the obvious, just a little exasperated at Harry's show of reluctance.

"Right now? I'm good enough for now?" Harry had begun to feel he was grasping at straws, but he'd wanted more reassurances.

"Harry . . . it's not like that," Tom had continued to pull.

"It sure seems like it to me, Tom," Harry had continued to resist.

Tom had suddenly stopped. He had taken up a stance, feet apart, hands on hips, just short of angry. "Harry do you want me to lie and tell you I'm madly in love with you? Is that what you want? Lies?"

"No," Harry had protested, trying not to feel threatened by Tom's anger as he was left feeling abandoned in the middle of the room. He had wondered why Tom was so angry?

"Well, I don't want to lie to you," Tom had assured him. Harry had stared at him, studying Tom's expression.

Tom had moved and taken Harry into his arms loosely, one arm around Harry's waist, his other hand cupping Harry's shoulder. Harry had found it comfortable. Tom always made him feel so comfortable. And, it had been very reassuring. He'd brought both hands up to rest on Tom's back, moving them in a gentle caress. He'd felt Tom's body heat reach out for him. He knew it wouldn't be long before he couldn't help but press himself into it.

"I like being with you Harry." Tom's voice had caressed him. "I love sleeping with you, you know that. Don't go imagining things and making yourself miserable about something that's probably not going to happen." Tom's arms had tightened around Harry.

Harry had moved into the close embrace. He'd rested his head on Tom's shoulder and had spoken into the fine hairs on Tom's neck. "You don't know that for sure."

"Harry, nothing's for sure." Tom had started stroking the back of Harry's neck. "Not in the Delta Quadrant." He'd leaned in and placed a gentle kiss right at the hairline. "You and I are so close. Closer than we've ever been. Maybe we'll get even closer." He'd nuzzled Harry's nape. "Don't worry so much about it. I'm here and I have no intention of going anywhere else."

Harry had sighed. He'd believed him. "I'm sorry, Tom. I have what I was wishing for and now I guess I've gotten a little too greedy." He'd pulled back until they were nose to nose; just a kiss apart. "I want more."

Tom had brushed his lips softly against Harry's. "I'm sorry too, Harry. I don't have any more to give right now." Tom had felt a strange confusion, even as he'd said it. There had been a question waiting in his mind; waiting for him to ask himself; but he'd pushed it away. He'd think about it later. Right now, he wanted to concentrate on Harry. "Can't you just accept what I *can* give, and try to be happy with that?" he'd questioned, a silent pleading in his eyes.

Harry had seen the pleading. He hadn't been sure exactly what Tom was pleading for, but he had been willing to give Tom anything he needed from him. And Tom was right about one thing, they *were* already incredibly close. Almost more than lovers?

"Yeah, Tom," Harry had assured him, leaning in to brush his own tender caress across Tom's lips. "I can. I'm sorry to sound so miserable. I'm not really. Being with you is the best thing that's happened to me."

"Well, it feels pretty great to me too, Harry." Tom had smiled a small enticing little smile. He'd kissed Harry, a little more insistently, but just with his lips, just to tease. "Why don't you come to bed?" he'd whispered against those soft lips.

Harry had smiled wryly. "You want to have sex?" He couldn't have resisted one last dig, not really angry or upset anymore, just teasing.

"Harry . . ." Tom had pouted, but there had been a look in his eyes that could have been pain.

Harry had been immediately contrite. "Sorry . . ." He and his big mouth, he'd been thinking.

"Harry, I want to make love to you." Tom had brought both hands up to cup Harry's face. He'd looked into Harry's eyes. "I want to hold you, and touch you and make you feel good. If you want to call that having sex with me, then, yes, I want to have sex. Don't you like it when I make love to you?"

"Oh, Tom . . ." Harry'd groaned. He'd thought, Jesus, why did he ever argue with the man?

"Well, then," Tom had pulled Harry towards the bedroom again, meeting no resistance. "Shut up and come to bed, stupid."

Tom had made passionate ecstatic love to Harry that night. Again and again he had driven Harry to a shuddering orgasm until Harry had fallen asleep exhausted in his arms. And Tom had started to think, to question, to wonder . . . What exactly was happening to him?

Tom moved restlessly around the bedroom as he studied Harry in the faint light. He studied the shadows falling over his lover, thinking that even in the dark, Harry had an allure for him that was unexpected but secretly pleasing. Whatever was between them, it sure wasn't just sex, although the sex itself was so intense it was unbelievable. No, what he found himself feeling for Harry carried over into other areas of his life. He found himself thinking about Harry at the oddest times. The things he wondered about Harry, the questions he wanted to ask him, well . . . you couldn't come right out and ask those kinds of things of just *anybody*. And the *smell* of Harry . . . he sometimes felt he could die happy snuggled in bed with the man with his nose pressed to Harry's chest, just inhaling his life away. It was insane. It felt like true love was supposed to feel, like in the storybooks, and it was beginning to really worry him.

Then, exactly a week ago tonight, in Sandrine's, something profound had happened. Tom had felt something so intense, it had shaken him utterly. And, suddenly, he had known. He hadn't acknowledged it, not then, not really until tonight, but he had known then that he was never going to be the same again; that *life* had changed.

He had been late meeting Harry at Sandrine's. His lover hadn't heard him come in and he'd snuck up behind him and put his arm around Harry's waist hugging him to himself as he joined him at the bar, daring him to object. The strange thing was, Harry hadn't objected. He had taken Tom's free hand in his and laced their fingers together, there, where their hands lay together on the bar. The gesture could have been erotic, but the feelings that had welled up inside Tom as he stared at their linked fingers had been more than just erotic. They had been overwhelming, consuming. They had made him feel like . . . gods, they had made him feel like *singing*! He had wanted to laugh and shout and . . . and grab Harry and kiss him until they both died of asphyxiation.

He had looked into Harry's eyes and the feelings had intensified, if that were at all possible. It hadn't seemed possible, and yet, it was. The two of them had sat absolutely still, staring, lost in each other's eyes; completely lost in time and space.

Someone, Tom couldn't even remember who, had spoken to him and he had turned to look blankly at them, not seeing them, seeing only Harry's dark pupils, filled with a strange intensity, looking back at him. He had turned blindly back to where Harry was actually sitting, not hearing the words the other person was saying to him. Harry had been still staring at him, and Tom had felt something as basic as instinct, as strong as the instinct to survive, urge him to claim Harry right there and then in front of everybody . . . and nobody. Because for them, at that moment, nobody else had existed. There had been just the two of them, sitting there together, for a long long time.

Now, a week later, he knew. He couldn't even pretend to be still figuring it out. Staring at Harry's face in the faint starlight from the window, he felt an overwhelming tenderness making every bone in his body ache. He had finally figured out why he had wanted to show everyone in Sandrine's that he belonged to Harry; why he had wanted to claim him in front of the assembled crew; why he wanted to let everyone know that he was sick and tired of the tomcat image he had been saddled with for too long.

In the end, it was very simple really. He knew that he loved Harry. Now he just had to figure out how to tell the man without the anxiety of his confession turning him into a quivering fool, and then persuade Harry that they might as well tell everyone else because he planned to make damn sure that this relationship would last, no matter what it took. Hell, he'd *marry* Harry, if that's what it'd take.

Tom tossed his robe at a chair and climbed back in beside his lover. He'd been hovering around the bed staring at Harry for who knows how long. When he'd woken earlier, he'd gotten up, not wanting to disturb Harry with his tossing and turning. His pacing and soul-searching had led him inevitably back to the bed, but only now did he feel any real peace, any possibility of actually getting back to sleep.

They had been sleeping spooned together, Tom behind Harry, facing the wall. Now, as he spooned up behind Harry again, Harry stirred, turned back towards Tom, leaning back into Tom's arms as they came around him. His head laid back against Tom's shoulder, his arm came to rest over Tom's at his waist, and Harry sighed, dropping back into sleep. Tom smiled, holding Harry against him, and fell asleep too.

Morning came too soon, but it didn't seem to matter. Tom was in heaven. He felt *so* good, it had to be heaven, nirvana, or . . . Harry's arms. Same thing.

There was a warm wet mouth sucking on his earlobe. There was the delicate touch of a fingertip brushing, ever so lightly and teasingly over and over and over again, over his nipple. There was a warm leanly-muscled thigh, sliding up and down his own, again and again, and every time the knee reached the apex of his thighs, it brushed heavily against the base of his erection, pressing, rubbing, stimulating him beyond mere pleasure and rapidly into need.

"Mmhhnn . . ." Tom moaned.

The wet sucking of his earlobe stopped. "Is that all you can say? No 'good morning'?" Harry teased. The fingers moved to torment Tom's other nipple and a mouth began to suck on the juncture between Tom's neck and shoulder. Harry shifted his weight half onto Tom's body, which brought that knee into more forceful contact with Tom's erection.

"Mmh, mhm hhn," Tom whimpered.

"Anyone would think," Harry lifted his mouth from Tom's neck, "that you are so far gone that you can't even form a coherent word, my love." Harry's hand slid down and took hold of Tom's hard penis and began to coax it into an even harder state, easily done now that it was slippery with pre-ejaculate.

"Harry!" Tom finally choked out, in a strangled whine. His body was moving of its own volition, hips jerking as he thrust into that firm grasp, hands clutching the pillow beneath his head as Harry sucked voraciously on a nipple.

"Shhhh," soothed Harry. "It's all right. I'm here," he cooed.

Harry's hot mouth closed over him and Tom half-sighed, half-sobbed in relief. Harry was here. Harry loved him. Everything was perfect. He was going to come in that beautiful mouth any . . . second . . . now . . .

"Ohhhhh! Shit!" Tom cried out, thrashing under Harry's steady hold on his hips.

Tom's penis pulsed with his release and semen gushed into Harry's waiting mouth. He swallowed and continued sucking, riding out the wave of ecstasy with his lover, keeping Tom in his mouth until his penis started to soften. He released Tom and sat up, surveying his handiwork.

Tom lay sprawled on the bed, limp, shining with sweat, his blonde hair dark, wild and spiky with it. His eyes were closed and he was drawing in great lungfuls of air as if he had forgotten to breathe during the whole experience. His hands lay limply by his sides as if he hadn't the energy to lift even a finger.

Good, thought Harry, thoroughly pleased with his endeavours.

Tom cracked open his eyes and saw Harry's self-satisfied smile. "You look like the cat who stole all the cream," he murmurred huskily.

"Ummm," Harry nodded. "Good cream," he smirked.

Tom smiled involuntarily even though he really hadn't the energy for it. The computer announcing their wake-up call interrupted his musing. "I don't think I can make it to the bridge after that," he announced wearily. "You'll just have to apologize to the Captain for incapacitating me."

Harry snorted. "How badly incapacitated?" he asked, raising one eyebrow. "Does that mean I'm going to have to deal with *this* all morning?" he used one finger to stroke his own erection from base to tip. He saw a spark light in Tom's eyes and smiled to himself. Hmmm. There's life in the old boy yet.

Even before Harry had finished thinking it, Tom had reached down and pulled Harry up and into his arms. He fitted Harry against his body, and Harry lifted one leg over Tom's, pulling Tom's leg in between his. He knew what was coming and the anticipation was driving his arousal higher and higher.

Tom slipped his arm under Harry's shoulders, cradling him, and let Harry's head fall back against it so that they could look into each other's eyes. Then he snaked his other hand down between them and began to caress Harry's penis. Harry sighed and had to close his eyes for a minute at the sheer power of Tom's touch.

Next to intercourse, this was Harry's favourite thing. Tom's hands were practically magical when it came to masturbating Harry. He played his lover like a finely-tuned instrument, reading Harry's responses like pages in an open book. Harry swore it was intuition or a sixth sense that told Tom the perfect touch to use at the perfect moment. Tom just smiled and said it was experience. Whatever the case, Tom could make Harry fly with the touch of his hand and they both loved it.

Harry was so close now, staring into Tom's eyes, pleading wordlessly. Tom didn't know whether Harry was pleading for it to continue or for it to end. He paused, his fingertip worrying the opening in the tip and leaned down to kiss his lover. Harry whimpered beneath Tom's lips. Their tongues slid against each other, Harry's jerking unsteadily, Tom's soothing firmly. He drew back.

Tom smiled into Harry's eyes. He reached down and took a firmer grip than he had so far and started to pump, strong and steady. Harry's eyes flew wide, he pulled in a huge gasping lungful of air as he reached out and clutched at Tom with both hands. His hips started positively bucking, thrusting wildly into Tom's hand.

It only took a moment and then Harry was sobbing Tom's name incoherently into Tom's shoulder, body shuddering convulsively, semen gushing over Tom's hand and onto both their bellies. Tom eased Harry back down from the pinnacle, petting him, nuzzling him, kissing and touching and soothing with a gentle crooning voice.

"Harry. My sweet Harry . . ."

Tom let it in, let it swell inside him, that possessiveness that he had been so afraid to let himself feel. Tonight, he decided; tonight he would wine and dine, romance and seduce Harry, and then tell him that he loved him. Tom smiled. He could imagine Harry's surprise and delight. He was going to make his Harry so happy.

Well, thought Tom, an hour later, sitting in the Captain's Ready Room at the morning staff meeting; the best laid plans . . . just collapsed around his head. Harry had been appointed head of one of two survey teams beaming down to the planet that afternoon for a whole week of geological surveying with a possible view to replenishing their depleted mineral supplies.

Tuvok was heading the other team, and it was a bit of a feather in Harry's cap that the Captain had chosen to give him command of his own team. It would be a first for Harry and Tom knew he was very excited about it. It was all Harry could talk about during their hurried meal break. Harry had to eat and pack and get to the transporter room to check on his team and make sure they had all the equipment they needed before beaming down.

Tom accompanied Harry to his quarters after they had rushed through their food. He didn't need to be back on the bridge until after Harry had gone, so he settled down on the bed and watched Harry choose the things he thought he might need for the trip.

A few hours ago, back in the Captain's Ready Room, Tom had asked for a word with Janeway as everyone else filed out to take up their duty stations. Janeway had looked at him questioningly, eyebrows raised.

"Yes, Lieutenant? Is there a problem?" she had asked as the doors swished shut.

"No, Captain, no problem." Tom had swallowed. Janeway was reasonable, but this was still going to be a longshot. "I was just wondering if I might have permission to accompany Harry's away team to the surface. You really don't need a pilot while we're in orbit and there's always room for an extra hand on a survey mission." He'd tried to look serious and concerned in the face of her astonishment.

"Mr. Paris, a survey team is hardly in need of a pilot either," she'd pointed out. A gleam had come into Janeway's eyes as she'd thought she might know what was motivating Tom's offer. "And . . ." she'd continued, "Harry hardly needs you to hold his hand on his first command assignment, Tom," she'd pointed out wryly. "He's ready to fly on his own."

Tom had grimaced in embarrassment. He hadn't realized it would sound like that. Harry would kill him if he heard about this. "I realize that, Captain," he'd hastily tried to explain. "Harry doesn't need any help from anyone in a command situation, Captain. He's very competent in that area."

"Then what is your reason for requesting this assignment?" Janeway had asked patiently and with some amusement.

God, Tom had thought to himself, what would she say if I told her I don't want to be separated from my lover for a whole damn week? She'd say, 'that's pretty pathetic,' that's what she'd say. Tom had wished he had the nerve to tell her, all the same.

"I was just thinking it would be nice to get off the ship for a few days and stretch my legs, breathe something besides processed air and help out the away team at the same time," he'd offered. He'd known it sounded lame as soon as he saw her smile.

"I realize that piloting a ship in orbit can be a trying occupation, Tom," Janeway had grinned. "But I don't think the away team needs you getting in their way either."

"But I wouldn't be in the way, Captain," Tom had tried again.

"Tom," the Captain had forestalled any further pleading with a raised hand. "I have a much better idea." She'd grinned at Tom's surprised expression. "Neelix has been asking to borrow you at the earliest convenience to help him do an upgrade of the holodeck resort program. I think this would be an excellent opportunity for him to avail himself of your expertise." She'd grinned as Tom's face fell. "You'll get a chance to stretch your legs and have a change of pace from bridge duty. I'm afraid I can't do anything about fresh air, but two out of three ain't bad," she'd teased Tom with a deliberate drawl.

Tom had pasted a smile on his face in response to the Captain's joke, but the joke had been on him. Getting stuck on a holodeck with Neelix for a week wasn't what he'd had in mind. Next time he'd have to remember to leave well enough alone and keep his mouth shut.

"Thank you, Captain," Tom had replied. "Should I just co-ordinate my hours with Neelix's?"

"That sounds like an excellent idea," she'd agreed. "I'll let Commander Chakotay know about the change in duty schedules. I doubt if he'll have trouble finding someone to mind conn for you. You can work out your shift today and then get started with Neelix tomorrow."

"Aye, Captain," Tom had acknowledged, rising to his feet and preparing to leave. "And thank you again."

Janeway had nodded with a smug smile. "Dismissed, Lieutenant."

Well, Tom thought to himself sitting in Harry's quarters, watching Harry prepare to leave; he had tried. There wasn't much else he could do to stay close to Harry over the next week. Maybe if he made a holoprogram of his lover . . . Tom grinned to himself.

Harry was carefully packing his small shoulder pack with the personal supplies he had selected to take with him. It would fit snugly into the larger pack he would wear while hiking between survey locations on the planet's surface. Tom was sitting on the bed watching him, smiling.

"What are you smiling at?" Harry asked.

"I was just thinking. Remembering, really . . ." Tom replied.

"Remembering what?" Harry was curious.

"Our very first night together. Do you remember that night?"

"Oh, God, Tom," Harry laughed sharply. "Which part? The nightmare, or what came after it?"

"I remember it all, Harry. Remember it as if it happened yesterday."

Harry blushed and didn't look up from his packing. "I remember it too. Too well. I've been trying to forget it," he confessed wryly with a grimace.

"You want to forget the first time we made love?" Tom teased, knowing that wasn't what Harry meant.

"No! No. I'll never forget that, Tom." Harry finally looked up. His eyes gleamed. "That was incredible."

"It was really good, considering it was our first time together, wasn't it?" Tom asked, smiling.

"Like I said," Harry smiled too, remembering. "Incredible."

"You know, Harry, I never would have thought of having sex with you if I hadn't seen that holoprogram."

Harry winced and turned away again. He walked across the room to rummage around in a drawer, even though there wasn't anything he needed from it. "Tom, please. I really don't want to remember that, let alone talk about it."

"Why not, Harry?"

Tom knew this subject embarrassed Harry, but he wanted to make a point. He wanted to try and give something of himself to Harry before they were separated for this week. His plans for the evening had been shot to hell, but that didn't mean he couldn't still tell Harry how he felt about him. They had a few minutes.

"You know why." Harry refused to look up. "I'm still just so . . . I'm so ashamed of what I did, that's why. I could have destroyed my career if anyone found out that I stole those files. I betrayed our friendship. I betrayed your trust. And for what? Sex? I still find it hard to believe that you didn't have me thrown in the brig." He flashed a quick look at Tom to check his expression. He was surprised to see Tom smiling at him. What the hell?

"Harry, how could I be mad when everything turned out so well. You never would have told me how you felt if I hadn't found that program. You were too insecure. You were hurting too much. I understand why you did it, Harry."

Harry turned away guiltily from that understanding smile. "Yeah, I was being a greedy selfish unprincipled bastard," he grumbled. Tom forgave too easily, he thought to himself.

"No, Harry, not at all." Tom was shaking his head emphatically.

Harry looked up and watched the play of emotions on Tom's face as his lover spoke.

"Living on Voyager is not easy for any of us," Tom said, staring down at his hands now. "Sometimes it's like living in a damned fishbowl. Everybody seems to know everybody else's business better than they know their own. Why do you think I used to play the field? That rep as the heartless carefree playboy gave me exactly what I wanted: camouflage. With everyone believing that the facade was real, I could hide the things I didn't want the rest of the world to know. Hell, everyone knows too much about me already. All I had left to myself were my feelings about that and what the pain and disappointments of my life had done to the me *inside*; the only part of me that I can keep hidden from all but the few that I *choose* to share it with. We're all like that to some extent."

Tom looked up and studied Harry's serious features. "Your camouflage is even more believable than mine, Harry, because you *are*, deep down, that dedicated young ensign; generous, loyal, friendly, almost too good to be true. And, of course, it *is* too good to be true. Hidden underneath that upbeat exterior is a lonely man. Oh, I don't mean friendless or not able to make personal contact with people," he explained as Harry turned away from him. "But, craving something special, some*one* special; someone to share the private Harry with, the one who has doubts about himself, the one who craves physical contact, and I don't just mean sex. I call him the Please-Hug-Me-Harry," Tom finished, smiling gently.

Harry grimaced in feigned pain. "Oh, please . . ." he begged. He didn't know whether to laugh or get angry. Hug-Me-Harry?

"You know I'm right," Tom insisted. "Harry, you give so much to your job, to this ship and its crew. It's not selfish to want something just for yourself. We all want that. Some of us just need it more than others. Like you. You give a lot, so you need a lot." He paused, just watching Harry moving about the room, wondering if he should broach the subject again. Oh, what the hell, he thought. "Harry, have you ever wondered how I found that holo-program?"

Harry kept his eyes on his task, folding a clean uniform. They were going to be on the surface for a week and energy was going to be at a premium, which meant no replicating replacements. "I asked at the time but you wouldn't tell me," he murmured.

"I went looking for that program of the women's volleyball team," Tom confessed.

Harry winced. "Don't remind me about that!" Harry was almost angry. Why did Tom have to keep bringing this up? He *knew* Harry hated talking about it.

Tom didn't let Harry's reaction deter him. "Why not? Harry, have you never really thought about why you couldn't enjoy sex with any of those characters?"

"I try not to think about that time at all, Tom." Harry shook his head. "I was so stupid."

"Harry," Tom's serious tone brought Harry's head around to look at him. "The problem wasn't with you, it was with them. You didn't *want* them. You didn't need them. And they sure as hell couldn't give you what you needed. You know they say sex is mostly in your head. There's never been any problem between *us* in the sex department," Tom pointed out.

Harry snorted. "That's different."

"Of course it's different," Tom tried to make Harry understand. He wanted Harry to let go of the guilt he still felt at the way they had started their intimate relationship. He wanted Harry to come to realize, as he had, that although Harry had made a mistake, it had brought them both good, not harm. "You want me. You *love* me, Harry. That's why it always works for us. That's why it worked with that character who looked like me. I can't be angry with you about that, Harry. You were loving *me* when you were with him. It wasn't selfish. You haven't got a selfish bone in your body. I'll bet you gave him much more than he gave you."

Harry gave a short choked laugh. "It wasn't hard. He was a hologram."

"That's beside the point," Tom walked over to Harry and took the uniform out of his hands. "You told him you loved him, didn't you?" Tom asked, looking into Harry's dark eyes.

"Yeah," Harry confessed, blushing. He was absorbed in what Tom was saying though, and didn't turn away.

"You didn't have to do that, Harry," Tom's smile was gentle. "He wouldn't have known the difference," Tom pointed out. "That was me in there you were loving. How could I be angry about that? After the shock wore off, I was just sad and upset that you hadn't told me, hadn't even given me the chance to say yes or no."

Harry bowed his head, shamed again. "I'm sorry, Tom. I'm such an idiot."

"Yeah," Tom was still smiling. "But you're *my* idiot."

"Tom?" Harry looked up, surprised at the possessive tone and words. Harry's expression seemed to say, 'is this a confession of love'?

"Janeway to Kim," Harry's com-badge activated. Harry grimaced. He took the uniform from Tom and stuffed it into his case.

"Kim here, Captain," he answered. Tom's eyes looked sad as Harry gazed into them. They both heard the case click shut, the sound loud in the quiet room.

"Your team is gathering in transporter room one, Ensign. Good luck." Janeway's voice was crisp.

"I'm on my way, Captain. Kim out."

"Oh, Harry . . ." Tom whispered. Time had all run out and he hadn't told Harry half of what he wanted to say. How could he tell Harry that he loved him like this?

"Tell me," Harry encouraged. He had the strongest feeling that Tom had been ready to tell him he loved him. Harry wanted to hear it. Hell, he was going off for a whole week to some barren rock of a planet without Tom. He needed to hear it.

"What? Right here? Right now?" Tom hedged nervously at the last minute.

"Oh," Harry smiled and chuckled in understanding. "You want to do it with moonlight and music, eh?" he teased.

Tom blushed, then grinned. "You can read me like a book, can't you? You don't even need me to tell you what's in my heart, do you?"

Something bright flashed in Harry's eyes. He slowly reached out and took Tom's face between his hands. "I love you, Tom." He waited.

Tom stared wide-eyed at Harry. Could he do it? Right here? Right now? Without preparing a speech. Just say it? He watched Harry's expression soften and felt something welling up inside him. Maybe it would be easier than he thought.

Harry's smile grew even more gentle and tender. "I love you, Tom," he repeated. He leaned forward to kiss Tom. Just before his lips reached Tom's mouth, Tom spoke.

"I love you, Harry," he whispered, as if afraid someone other than Harry would hear.

Harry paused for an endless moment as his soul fed on that confession, his lips hovering. "Oh, Tom . . ." he whispered in return. He kissed Tom with very tender lips, just brushing the surface of Tom's mouth with a feathery touch, then drew back. "I've got to go, love," he whispered, eyes beginning to fill with tears.

"I know," Tom whispered back, something in his chest aching unbearably.

Harry touched his cheek and then he pulled away. They both turned and walked out into the corridor. Harry paused and looked into Tom's eyes. Tom looked back. Harry knew if he touched Tom again, he wouldn't want to let go. He whispered, "Bye," and started down the corridor. He looked back as he waited at the turbolift. They gazed at each other the length of the corridor until the doors opened. Harry took one look into the turbolift and then said, "Sorry. Go ahead." The doors closed and Harry rushed back down the corridor as fast as he could and into Tom's embrace.

They kissed wildly, there in the corridor for anyone to see, mouths devouring, teeth biting, tongues thrusting, holding each other as close as two bodies can get in Starfleet uniforms. After a few frantic minutes, Harry broke away, panting.

"Keep that thought," he gasped and sprinted back down the corridor. The turbolift doors opened again just as he reached them. They deposited an unsuspecting ensign into the corridor who stared first at a flustered Ensign Kim practically jumping into the turbolift, and then down the corridor at a dishevelled Lieutenant Paris, arms wrapped around himself, looking as if he had just lost his only friend. They exchanged embarrassed glances and then Paris entered the open doorway of Ensign Kim's quarters. The door closed behind him and the ensign looked back at the turbolift doors thoughtfully.

"Computer," B'Elanna called, almost three days later, standing outside Tom's quarters at 0200 hours, her finger on the doorchime, keying it continuously, to no effect. "Is Lieutenant Paris in his quarters?"

"Lieutenant Paris is not in his quarters," the computer confirmed.

This is the second night in a row, B'Elanna grumbled to herself. How the hell was she supposed to keep an eye on Paris for Harry if she can't find the guy? She was beginning to think that the idiot had been removing his com-badge after hours just so no one *could* find him. Damn the man! Trust Tom Paris to make her life difficult.

"Computer, can you locate Lieutenant Paris?"

"Lieutenant Paris is currently located in holodeck one," came the information.

"Sandrine's? At *this* hour?" B'Elanna grumbled to herself as she headed to the turbolift. She knew he was working alpha shift. What did he think he was doing? Well, at least he was *wearing* his com-badge.

The first night that the survey team had been away, B'Elanna had been busy late into the night in Engineering, setting up relays from the planet surface and checking that all emergency systems were ready for anything. In her experience, a planet that *looked* benign usually wasn't, and if anything could go wrong on an away mission, it would. Besides, Harry was down there, so she had checked and double checked everything before she was satisfied and had returned to her quarters to sleep like the dead.

It wasn't until the next night that she had remembered her promise to Harry to check in with his lover occasionally. She had tried reaching Tom early in the evening, but hadn't been worried when he didn't answer his com-link. At midnight she hadn't bothered to make an issue of it either, thinking he was probably in bed sleeping soundly.

She had tried to get hold of him yesterday, but he kept telling her he was busy and would see her later. She hadn't seen him in the mess hall at dinner time, nor in Sandrine's, where she had gotten caught up in a game of pool with Carey. She'd called him when she left at 2300 and got no answer. To hell with him, she had thought and had gone to bed. But she must have been suffering from a guilty conscience because she was awake again just before 0200. She'd called him, got no answer, and had decided, enough was enough, she was going to his quarters and would drag him out of bed and ask why the hell he had been avoiding her and not answering his com-link.

B'Elanna stepped through the doors of holodeck one and into Sandrine's. She was surprised to find the program running when it seemed deserted. There weren't even any holocharacters around. That in itself was strange. Someone must have deleted them all, which meant someone was probably sitting in here in the dark all by themselves. It was hard to see anything. The only lights were those over the bar. She couldn't see anyone at the pool table.

"Computer," she requested in a low voice, "Raise lights to minimum intensity over the tables." A glow appeared over the tables in the bar room and illuminated a figure in a Starfleet uniform hunched over a table in the back corner. There was a half-full glass of synthahol in front of them.

Tom must have heard her footsteps, because before she reached him he raised his head from where it had been pillowed on his arms and looked at her blankly.

"B'Elanna? What are you doing here?"

"I could ask you the same thing, Paris," she answered wryly, pulling out a chair and sitting down across from him. "I'd also like to know why you haven't been answering your com-badge." She nodded pointedly to the place on his uniform where his communicator was attached.

Tom grinned at her. "Sorry," he chuckled weakly. "Have you been trying to keep an eye on me?" he joked.

"It's against regulations to wander around without your communicator, Tom. It's also a no-no to not answer when hailed by another officer. You *know* that," she pointed out.

"Yeah, well, I'm not worrying too much about regulations right now, B'Elanna," he drawled. Tom picked up his glass and took a generous swallow of synthahol. "Damn, what I'd give for a bottle of the real stuff," he mumbled to himself.

"Tom," B'Elanna reached over and placed a hand on his arm. "Why aren't you in bed. You look like hell."

Tom snorted. "Can't sleep, so why bother?" he growled, taking another mouthful.

"What do you mean, can't sleep?" B'Elanna asked. "You look exhausted. You look like if your head touched your pillow you'd be out for a week."

"Yeah," Tom's wry smile briefly passed over his lips. "You'd think that, wouldn't you? But every time I drop off, it only lasts a couple of hours, and then I'm awake again, feeling like hell, not able to get back to sleep, no matter what."

"Why don't you go see the doctor? Get him to give you something. You can't go on like this and still function on the bridge every day. When was the last time you slept the whole night through?"

Tom sat so still and so quiet for so long she didn't think he was going to answer. Maybe he's fallen asleep with his eyes open, she thought.

"I can't remember the last time I slept through the night," Tom finally answered. He turned to stare at her, with a thoughtful expression on his face. "I wasn't sleeping too well for a while before Harry left on the away mission, and I've hardly slept since. I just can't seem to relax. It's not as if I haven't had insomnia before, so I haven't really been too worried about it. And I spent a couple of really boring days working on the resort holodeck program with Neelix, so I haven't exactly been under a lot of stress. But maybe you're right. Maybe I should go and see the doc. I'm starting to imagine things. So I guess it's getting to me."

"What do you mean, imagine things?" B'Elanna asked, worried.

"Well, I could have sworn that I went to bed last night in my quarters around midnight. But when I woke up a couple of hours later, I was sitting on the sofa. It was the weirdest thing." Tom shook his head and chuckled. "I guess I'm so tired, I'm not remembering what I'm doing."

"Well, make sure you go to Sickbay today, Tom. I don't like the sounds of it."

"Sure, B'Elanna," Tom agreed vaguely.

She stared at him closely, not liking the state he was in. "Come on. I'm taking you back to your quarters. You've had enough synthahol for one night. You can at least try and get some sleep."

"It doesn't matter, B'Elanna," Tom sighed wearily. "I lay down and maybe sleep for an hour, two if I'm lucky, and then I'm awake again."

B'Elanna stared at him, thinking furiously, and then when she had come to a conclusion, wondered if she had enough guts to broach the subject.

"Have you tried sleeping in Harry's bed?" she asked quietly.

Tom looked up at B'Elanna, surprised and then relieved. "You know about me and Harry?" he asked.

"Yeah," she tried to sound nonchalant. "Harry told me last week, after you humiliated Megan Delaney in Sandrine's." They grinned at each other at the memory.

B'Elanna thought back to that night. She had sent Tom after Harry, not really knowing what was going on, except that Megan's little display seemed to have sparked some kind of argument between the two friends. She had already known Harry thought he was in love with Tom. She had thought maybe if she urged Tom to go after him, they would perhaps get around to talking about what was bothering Harry. She'd had mixed feelings about Tom finding out how Harry felt about him, but she had hated seeing the two friends argue even more. It just made Harry too miserable when that happened.

The next day she had cornered him in the mess hall and had demanded to know what had happened. Harry had been close-lipped.

"What was that business in Sandrine's last night?" she had questioned him.

"What business?" Harry had prevaricated.

"Don't play stupid with me, Starfleet. What was going on between you and Tom? You practically *ran* out of Sandrine's. I sent him after you. What happened?" she had insisted.

"*You* sent him after me?" Harry had stared at her in astonishment. "I thought you had written me off as an idiot for falling in love with the man. Now you're encouraging it?"

"Harry, I may not approve of your choice, but I know you. You are absolutely miserable after an argument with Tom. So, I sent him after you to try and work things out. Did you? Work things out with him?" she had prodded.

Harry had sighed exasperatedly. "It's really none of your business, B'Elanna."

"What?!" B'Elanna had choked, wide-eyed, getting angry. "What do you mean by that, Starfleet? Just what am I then, targ-feed? I thought I was your friend, at least!"

Harry had recoiled in embarrassment, checking around to see if anyone had heard B'Elanna raise her voice. There had been very few people left in the mess hall that late and none of them had been near them.

"All right, all right," he had soothed as he looked around. "Keep your voice down or I won't say another word," he had grumbled.

"Talk," B'Elanna had ordered in a low growl, her look steely-eyed and determined.

Harry had looked away from her and had said in a very low voice, "Tom and I are lovers."

"What?!" B'Elanna's eyebrows had tried to become another wrinkle in her impressive Klingon forehead.

"You heard me," Harry had stared back at her, his lips tight.

"When did this happen? Were you even going to tell me?" she had complained.

"I don't want *anyone* to know about it," Harry had muttered.

"Oh, so, of course, don't tell blabber-mouth B'Elanna," she had huffed.

"B'Elanna," Harry had pleaded with another weary sigh.

B'Elanna had known what that expression on Harry's face meant. He had been thinking to himself, 'All I really need right now is to be tongue-lashed by an offended half-Klingon female.' She had seen that look on Carey's face too, numerous times. She ignored it, same as always.

"How long?" B'Elanna had demanded to know.

"Two months," Harry had answered.

"Two whole months?" B'Elanna's voice had risen again, but she had curbed it at Harry's anxious look. "You sure hid it well. Shit, I didn't realize Tom had it in him to hide something like that from anyone. I'm surprised he hasn't been bragging about it."

"He promised me that it would be a secret between us," Harry had explained.

"You are a sly devil, Starfleet," B'Elanna had told him, admiringly. "I thought you were still pining for him."

"I am," Harry had admitted quietly.

"What?" B'Elanna had asked in bewilderment.

"It's just a sexual liaison, an affair. He says he's not in love with me," Harry had confessed quietly.

B'Elanna had just stared at Harry, stunned by his words. "You are even more of an idiot than I thought you were, Harry," she had finally told him.

"Thanks for your support, B'Elanna," Harry had smiled wryly.

"Have you any idea of the heartache you are setting yourself up for, Harry," she had asked quietly. She really liked Harry. She hated to think of what Tom Paris could do to him. He could destroy someone like Harry if he wasn't careful.

"B'Elanna," Harry had tried to explain. "I am not a child. I know exactly what I'm doing. I know Tom Paris a hell of a lot better than you do. I am in *love* with that man. Do you think I could love someone who didn't deserve it, B'Elanna?"

"Harry, you're . . ." B'Elanna had tried to answer.

"No, I'm not, B'Elanna. That's the point," he had leaned closer to her, caught her eyes and tried to impress her with his words. "I'm not a naive and inexperienced boy, B'Elanna. Stop trying to make me out to be one. I'm a man, a Starfleet officer, with two years of hell in the Delta Quadrant under my belt. Tom Paris is a very complex individual, who doesn't let people get close very often. I am lucky that he is willing to stay in this relationship with me."

"Lucky?" B'Elanna had squeaked in disbelief.

"Lucky," Harry had reiterated firmly. "This thing between Tom and I started out as purely sex. Tom insisted. He's even more nervous about emotional ties than you are, and that's saying a lot." He had grinned briefly, to head off any retort, showing he was teasing. "But, that said, we've been exclusive for two whole months, B'Elanna. Have you ever known Tom to be exclusive with anyone for more than 24 hours?" he had questioned, eyebrows raised to make his point.

"Can't say that I have," she'd had to agree with him. "What are you getting at?"

"I think he's falling in love with me," Harry had whispered with a slight smile just curving his mouth.

B'Elanna had shaken her head. "You're dreaming, Harry," she had warned.

"No, I don't think so," Harry had continued to smile a small contented smile.

"What makes you think he's in love with you then? I haven't seen him do anything but argue with you," she had observed.

"I think he protests too much," Harry had said with an enigmatic little smirk.

"What?" B'Elanna had indicated she had no idea what he meant.

"He keeps telling me that he's *not* in love with me. I get the feeling that he's trying to persuade himself, not me. And if that weren't enough proof, he just gets more tender and attentive every night we spend together. The man is so loving and so generous in bed, I can't believe it's just sex any more. It's just not possible." Harry had paused, just looking at her, wanting this last piece of proof to have the proper impact. "B'Elanna, Tom makes me *feel* loved!"

B'Elanna had just stared at Harry. He had looked happy and embarrassed, as if he had been remembering something . . . "Something happened last night when I sent him after you, didn't it, Starfleet?" she had guessed.

Harry had blushed. "Yeah, you could say that. We ended up in bed, same as usual," he'd grinned self-consciously.

"But he didn't tell you that he loved you. He told you that he *didn't* love you, right?" B'Elanna had tried to get it straight.

"That's right," Harry's expression had grown even more happy. "And he was so unconvincing about it, too," Harry had chuckled.

"I hope you're right, Starfleet," B'Elanna had said at the time. And now, sitting here in Sandrine's in the wee small hours of the morning, taking in the weary wreck of a man before her that was Tom Paris, she thought Harry must have been right.

"You know," Tom said to her, smiling slightly. "That was the night I first thought I might be falling in love with Harry," he referred to the passionate aftermath of the Megan Delaney Incident.

"Are you in love with him, Tom?" she asked, wondering if he had read her mind.

"Yes, I am," he confessed with a wry grin. "How the mighty are fallen, eh?"

"Have you told Harry yet?" she probed, watching his face intently.

"Right before he left on assignment," Tom confessed. "And you want to know something? He didn't seem at all surprised. It was almost as if he had been waiting for me to say it."

"He was," she assured him. "He already told me he thought things were moving in that direction."

"Oh, great," Tom groaned. "You mean you and Harry knew I was in love with him before I knew myself?" He shook his head. "It figures."

"You know, Tom, there was a time when I thought that you and I might . . ." she tailed off, smiling but feeling embarrassed.

"Yeah?" Tom's eyes sparkled speculatively despite his weariness. "I always thought you hated my guts," he teased her.

"Only when you were acting like a pig," she teased right back.

"Sounds like we were made for each other, doesn't it?" he drawled sarcastically.

B'Elanna laughed out loud in the quiet holodeck. That was one thing she liked about Tom Paris. He could make you madder than a constipated Kazon. He could speak and act like a complete jerk on occasion. But he always managed to catch you up in his wicked sense of humour. Maybe she could also admit to herself that he was one of the most handsome men on board Voyager. Maybe she could even acknowledge that he was a dedicated officer, courageous in battle, and a damn fine pilot. Maybe it wouldn't even hurt.

"Tom," she told him sincerely, "I think Harry is a very lucky man." And incredibly, she found she meant it.

Tom's jaw dropped in surprise. He swallowed slowly and then cleared his throat. "Gee, thanks, B'Elanna," he stammered. His expression softened as what she said sank in. "I think Harry's pretty lucky too, to have a friend like you looking out for him."

Their shared smile seemed to hold a mutual understanding about the object of their affections. Finally, B'Elanna stood up, all business.

"Come on, Paris," she pulled him to his feet and hauled him towards the door. "Next stop, Harry's quarters. He'll kill me if I don't look after *you* better than this," she growled. As she pulled him out of the holodeck she called back over her shoulder, "Computer, end program," and the lights blinked out as the doors slid shut.

Captain Janeway didn't like the looks of Lieutenant Paris when he reported for duty the next morning. The man looked positively ill with dull eyes ringed in dark circles and a tendency to stare off into space. He didn't say a word during the morning staff meeting, so she took him aside afterwards for a moment.

"Are you okay, Tom?" she asked.

"I'm fine," he assured her, but the smile he gave her was automatic, stiff. She caught his eyes for a moment and was surprised by their blankness, but let him go, not able to recognize what it was about his expression that disturbed her. She was probably imagining things, she thought, as he asked, "Is that all, Captain?"

"Yes, Mr. Paris," she said and sent him to his duty station.

Janeway and Chakotay were discussing the latest report from the survey team when, out of the corner of her eye, she saw Tom leave the conn and head for the turbolift. She broke off in the middle of what she was saying to the Commander to watch Tom cross the bridge. She thought she heard him saying something, but couldn't make out the words.

"Lieutenant, where are you going?" Janeway asked Tom's retreating figure. He didn't answer; didn't even acknowledge that he heard her. Her second attempt to get his attention, "Mr. Paris!" didn't fare any better. She swung her glance around to Chakotay, her eyebrows raised in disbelief.

The Commander just shrugged and then tried himself. "Tom!" he called, but the young man continued inexorably towards the turbolift and stepped inside.

Janeway rose finally and followed him. As Tom turned and reached to key the controls, she caught a glimpse of his face. His lips were moving, but she couldn't hear anything but mumbling. He was frowning slightly. The brief glimpse she managed of the look in his eyes from under his partially lowered lids was even more frighteningly blank than when she had spoken to him earlier. It was as if he wasn't seeing anyone or anything except what was in his mind's eye. The turbolift doors slid shut between them.

"Lieutenant," the Captain turned to the officer tending Tuvok's station. "Tell me where that turbolift stops," she ordered. "Get a lock on Lieutenant Paris' com-badge signal and tell me where he's going before he gets there."

"Aye, Captain," the officer answered. He checked his console. "The turbolift has stopped on deck four, crew's quarters, Captain," he reported.

"Whose quarters?" Janeway demanded.

"The signal is holding stationary in Ensign Kim's quarters, Captain," the young man told her after a moment.

"Lieutenant, send a security officer to wait outside Ensign Kim's quarters until Mr. Paris emerges. Have the officer escort the lieutenant to Sickbay at that time and notify me immediately."

"Aye, Captain," the lieutenant carried out her orders.

Janeway turned back to Chakotay. "Commander, it looks like you'd better get a replacement up here to man the helm until we can find out what's wrong with Mr. Paris."

"I'm on it already, Captain," he agreed, checking the duty roster.

They continued their discussion of the survey report, but Janeway couldn't keep her mind on it. As soon as Tom's replacement had taken his place she rose and headed for the turbolift.

"I'm going to check on the lieutenant, Commander. If you need me I'll be in Mr. Kim's quarters," she informed him over her shoulder.

Chakotay just nodded. "Let me know what's going on?" he requested.

"Of course," she acknowledged, and the turbolift doors closed.

A few minutes later she was venturing into Harry Kim's darkened quarters. "Computer, minimum lighting," she requested. She heard breathing and crossed the room to look into the bedroom. Tom Paris lay sleeping soundly, curled up like a child, still wearing his full uniform, including his boots, right in the middle of Harry's bed. She studied the huge dark circles under his eyes again and then retreated to the corridor.

"Any change in orders, Captain?" the security officer inquired.

"Lieutenant Paris is ill, Ensign," she informed him. "He may be disoriented when he emerges. Just assist him in reaching Sickbay. Tell him it's Captain's orders that he report there immediately for treatment."

"Aye, Captain," the young officer acknowledged his orders.

Late that afternoon, the EMH interrupted Janeway as she worked in her Ready Room.

"Go ahead, Doctor," she greeted him. "I take it you have some information about Lieutentant Paris to report."

"I do indeed, Captain," the holodoc said as he appeared on her viewscreen. "Despite Mr. Paris' unco-operative attitude, I have performed a thorough examination of the patient and have come to some interesting conclusions. Would you like to hear them, Captain?"

Janeway gritted her teeth and smiled. "Indeed, Doctor, I'm all ears," she drawled sarcastically, a refinement in vocal expression which had no effect on the EMH.

The holodoc plunged into his report with obvious enthusiasm. "I have diagnosed the lieutenant as suffering from acute sleep-deprivation brought on by chronic undiagnosed insomnia as a result of underlying stress. The factors leading to the insomnia seem to be psychologically stressful rather than physiologically stressful. I have come to that conclusion after reviewing the lieutenant's duty schedule for the past few days. Nothing stressful had been reported in the lieutenant's duty logs for those days. Mr. Paris is in relatively good health otherwise, but he is refusing to discuss anything that may bring to light the reason for the stress that is currently incapacitating him. I don't believe the lieutenant should be returned to duty until he has had at least another twelve hours of uninterrupted sleep. I have prescribed him a sedative and muscle relaxant that should ensure he receives the recommended sleep. However, without relieving the underlying cause of the stress, the insomnia will undoubtedly recur and Mr. Paris will find himself back in Sickbay again."

"Can you explain what happened on the bridge this morning, Doctor?" Janeway asked as she tried to digest his report, which was even now being downloaded to her screen and transferred to a data padd.

"I believe, from your report of the incident that I have just read, and from the diagnosis I have come to regarding what is ailing Mr. Paris, I would have to conclude that the lieutenant was sleep-walking."

"Sleep-walking?" Janeway asked for confirmation, wondering if she'd heard him correctly. "You're telling me Mr. Paris fell asleep at the conn and then left the bridge sleep-walking?"

"Yes, Captain," the EMH confirmed, "that would seem to be the case. Mr. Paris' medical history does mention juvenile experiences of the phenomenon. I am of the opinion that either the amount and/or type of stress that the lieutenant is suffering from has been sufficient to reactivate this latent behavioural response."

"Could it happen again?" Janeway demanded.

"Oh, yes, Captain," the EMH assured her. "If the stress continues, the symptoms will continue to manifest themselves: insomnia, sleep-walking and any other of a number of physical responses to sleep-deprivation may occur."

"So what we have to do is find out what is causing the lieutenant to be under this psychological stress?" she asked.

"Exactly, Captain," the EMH was pleased the Captain had understood him so easily. "Unfortunately, as I indicated before, the lieutenant is refusing to discuss the question of what might be causing him stress. I was hoping you would be able to bring some influence to bear on him to find out the answers that I was not able to elicit."

"I'll handle it from here, Doctor, thank you," Janeway assured him. "Would you like to keep Mr. Paris in sickbay for observation?"

"I don't see any point to that, Captain," the EMH confessed. "I was going to release him as soon as you were made aware of my report. I would advise he be restricted to quarters until his treatment has been administered. As long as Mr. Paris takes the correct medication, in the dosage required, and gets those hours of sleep, he should be recovered within 24 hours. However, as I pointed out, a relapse of some sort would most probably occur within 72 hours, if the insomnia continues unchecked."

"Go ahead and release him to quarters. You have my permission. Thank you, again, Doctor," she acknowledged. "Janeway out."

When Tom ambled into his quarters a half-hour later, he stopped cold at the sight of Captain Janeway standing by his viewport.

"Captain," he acknowledged her presence. "What can I do for you?"

Janeway came forward and lifted Tom's chin in one firm hand. She turned his face to the left and then to the right. "You still look like hell, Mr. Paris," she concluded, letting him go after her inspection.

"Yeah, well," Tom mumbled, sliding her a sheepish grin. "The doc says I need some sleep," he laughed hollowly. "I could have told him that."

"Why aren't you sleeping, Tom?" Janeway questioned. She walked over to the sofa and perched on the arm. "The doctor says you're under some kind of stress. Is that it?"

Tom heaved a sigh. He walked past her and threw himself down on the sofa. "Captain, you wouldn't believe me even if I told you," he tried to joke.

"Tom, I don't like it when my best pilot lets himself get into this kind of shape. If you know what the problem is, then tell me, or discuss it with Chakotay or the doctor, or someone. This isn't like you, Tom. You've handled stress before. I've watched you."

"This is different, Captain," Tom muttered.

"Explain," she suggested, trying to keep calm. What the hell could have the man so rattled? She had seen Tom Paris face firefights and deadly aliens bent on their destruction and never seen him in this state before.

Tom shook his head back and forth in amusement. He finally looked up into her face. "I'm in love," he chuckled at the sick humour of the situation. She was going to think him out of his mind, as well as everything else. The Captain just stared blankly at him and he couldn't blame her.

"Repeat that," she asked.

"You heard right the first time, Captain," he assured her.

"This is the stress that you're under?" she asked, trying to keep a straight face.

"Looks like it," he agreed.

"Is there some problem? Does the person you're in love with not return the feeling?" she felt ridiculous discussing Tom Paris' love life.

"Captain, you really don't want to know about this, do you?" he pleaded.

"Tom," she tried to keep a stern demeanour, but this subject was taxing her to the limit. "Do you want to be removed from duty and put on permanent sick-leave?" she threatened.

"That won't be necessary," he admitted, a note of relief entering his voice.

Janeway couldn't understand that note of relief. "Why not?" she demanded.

Tom smiled crookedly and Janeway was astonished to see him blush. "Because Harry will be back on board by the end of the week," he reminded her.

"What has Harry to do with all this?" she asked blankly, bewildered.

Tom's smile grew sheepish. He didn't see any way around this. He only hoped Harry didn't mind, and that the Captain would be as discreet as B'Elanna had proved.

"Harry and I are lovers, Captain. I'm in love with Harry and Harry is in love with me," he confessed.

"Harry?" she repeated, eyebrows raised, eyes wide, blinking in astonishment.

"Harry," Tom confirmed with almost grim amusement.

She stared at Tom so hard and so long that he blushed again and looked away. When she realized why Tom had looked away, she hastened to make amends.

"Well, that's . . . wonderful, Tom. I'm glad for you and Harry. But what is causing all the stress?"

Tom blushed an even deeper shade of red. Janeway was enthralled with the display. Poor man. He really was having a hard time of it.

"I seem to be having trouble sleeping without Harry, Captain," he mumbled, not looking at her. "I'm sorry it's gotten so bad. I didn't realize just how bad it was until I woke up in Harry's bed in my uniform this afternoon without knowing how I got there. B'Elanna had persuaded me last night to go see the doc and I was going to ask permission to go this afternoon, but my body sabotaged me first." He sat staring down at his hands in an agony of embarrassment. "I realize this is not how you expect your bridge officers to handle their personal lives, Captain. All I can do is apologize and tell you that it will never happen again."

Janeway studied him for a few minutes before saying anything. "The doctor disagrees with you, Tom," she announced quietly.

"What?" he finally looked up at that.

"He says if the insomnia continues, all the other problems will as well."

"But I'll be fine once Harry is back," Tom argued.

"Tom," Janeway smiled sympathetically. "I can't worry about my pilot falling apart every time I send his lover on an away mission without him. There is more going on here than you missing Harry. Don't you agree?"

Tom stared into the Captain's eyes. Was there more going on here? "I don't know, Captain. I don't honestly know."

"Would you agree to discuss the possibility of something else causing the insomnia with a counsellor; Chakotay or Kes or even the doctor?" she suggested.

"Whatever you want, Captain," Tom bowed to Janeway's judgement. "I'd like to remain pilot on board Voyager, whatever it takes," he vowed.

"Thank you, Tom," Janeway acknowledged Tom's loyalty. "You decide who you want to talk about it with, and tell them to let me know. And in the meantime, take all of the prescribed medication the doctor gave you and get into bed. You are not returning to duty until you've had those twelve hours of sleep that he recommended. Am I making myself clear?" Janeway smiled to soften the orders.

"Actually, Captain," Tom grinned. "I was just going to get something more comfortable to sleep in and a change of clothes for tomorrow and then I was going to retire to Harry's quarters."

"Whatever," Janeway didn't want to hear the intimate details. She was still getting used to the idea of Harry being Tom's lover. That one might take some time. "I expect you to look a whole lot better in 24 hours, Mr. Paris, or you'll answer to me."

"Yes, Captain," Tom smiled. "Thank you for your concern, Captain."

She smiled back. "At ease, Mister," she quipped and swept out of the room.

"So, what's up with Paris?" Chakotay asked that evening as he settled at a table beside his Captain. Sandrine's was full, but it didn't seem as lively without Tom holding court at the pool table.

"Did you know about him and Harry Kim?" she asked quietly, not wanting to broadcast the content of their conversation.

"I've had my suspicions," he acknowledged. "How did you find out?"

"You had your suspicions and you didn't see fit to mention them to me?" Janeway stared at Chakotay.

"It's not really any of our business, Kathryn. They are very discreet. No one else seems to know, and I think that's because they prefer it that way. I didn't see any reason to pass on idle gossip," he explained.

"Normally, I would agree," Janeway conceded. "Except when it turns my pilot into a zombie." She chuckled at Chakotay's incredulous expression.

"Are you telling me Tom is looking like death warmed over because he's missing his lover?" Chakotay was having trouble controlling his voice as he expressed his disbelief. "Harry hasn't even been gone a week," he pointed out.

"Well, the issues are a little more complicated than that, I think, but Harry's absence at this particular time, while they're still in the relationship-building process, seems to have triggered something that Tom has no control over. I've insisted he talk to a counsellor, so hopefully he'll approach you or Kes over the next few days and one of you can help him figure it out. I really don't want a repeat of this morning any time in the near future."

"I'll talk to him about it," Chakotay offered.

"Thank you," she smiled. "And perhaps we could find some way to bring Mr. Kim home a little sooner than expected, just to tide us over until we can get Mr. Paris' problems straightened out?"

Chakotay grinned. "Who do you suggest to take over his duties?" As if he didn't know, he thought.

"Are you doing anything important for the next three days?" she asked pointedly.

"I guess not," he conceded.

"Good," Janeway grinned back. "Thank you for volunteering, Commander." She lifted her glass and toasted him.

Tom awoke just after noon the next day. He felt a little groggy, his muscles a little stiff, but his head felt clear of the constant haze of exhaustion he had been fighting for over a week. He decided that the first thing he would do was shave, shower and then wander down to the mess hall and see if there was anything left to eat from the mid-day meal.

He was tempted to linger in the shower, the cleansing movements of his hands making him long for Harry's touch on his body, but he resisted the impulse. He'd have all night long in Harry's bed to indulge in fantasies of his lover and to mess up the sheets. Tom grinned at himself in the mirror as he shaved.

When he moved to step back into the bedroom he felt a shock ripple through his entire body and froze in the doorway. An apparition of Harry appeared in the doorway to the outer room. His mind cringed in pain. No! The doc said I'd be better after some sleep. He didn't say anything about hallucinations. He *was* feeling better! His mind couldn't be playing more tricks on him.

Tom closed his eyes tightly, moaning. "No, go away. I don't want to see you. The doc said I would be better today.Go away . . ."

"Tom!" Harry's voice broke into Tom's moaning.

Tom's eyes flew open wide. Oh, God, it *sounded* like Harry! When the apparition moved towards him he backed away instinctively. "No . . ." Tom moaned again.

"Tom!" Harry stepped forward and grabbed Tom by the arms and shook him sharply. "Tom! Snap out of it! It's me, Harry! What's going on?!"

Tom gasped at the feel of those hard hands gripping him. He brought his own hands up and laid them on Harry's solid shoulders. He felt . . . real. "Harry?" Tom whispered. "How did you get here?"

"How do you think I got here, Tom," Harry sighed. "The transporters, same as always." He shook his head at his lover. "Chakotay said you were ill, but he didn't say what was wrong. Are you okay?" He peered into Tom's face.

Tom sighed and leaned against Harry, finally relaxing as Harry's arms came around him and pulled him close. "Yeah," he chuckled weakly. "I'm okay. You gave me a bit of a shock for a moment there. I wasn't expecting you." He pulled back slightly and looked at Harry. "Why are you back so soon? Survey done already?"

"Good question," Harry said as he pulled Tom down onto the bed beside him. "Chakotay just arrived out of the blue this morning and said he wanted to get a first-hand look at the locations where we were gathering the samples and that I was needed back on the ship so he'd be taking over from me." He looked anxiously at Tom. "Do you think I messed up somehow and he wanted me out of there?"

Tom smiled wryly. "No, Harry, you were doing just fine. *I'm* the one who messed up," he explained.

"You?" Harry frowned. "What did you do? And why would that make them call *me* back from the planet?"

"It's a long story, Harry," Tom sighed.

"Well, I seem to have a lot of free time on my hands today. You can tell me while I shower and get cleaned up and unpacked." Harry stood up and retrieved his pack from the other room. "You know, it was the strangest thing. I reported to the Captain as soon as I returned, and she told me I had done a good job and could take the rest of today and tomorrow off." He turned to look at Tom sitting on the bed. "I couldn't believe it. Hell, I still don't believe it. I didn't even get to finish the assignment and she's giving me time off as a reward." He shook his head trying to figure it out.

"I'm afraid it's got more to do with me than with you, Harry," Tom explained, flushing with embarrassment.

Harry sat down beside him again. "Then maybe you'd better start explaining what's going on, Tom."

So Tom explained about his insomnia and his sleepwalking and put forward the theory that he expected Harry had been recalled because Janeway thought Tom needed him here more than they needed him down on the planet.

"You're kidding?" Harry asked. He watched Tom shake his head. "You actually just walked off the bridge without a word?"

"That's what the doc said. I don't remember a thing about it. I remember getting out of bed when the alarm went off, and I remember talking to the Captain at the morning briefing and checking the conn when I first sat down at my station, but I don't remember anything else until I woke up here in your bed still fully dressed." He grinned sheepishly at Harry. "Pretty crazy, huh?"

"Can't leave you alone for a minute, can I?" Harry teased affectionately. He caressed Tom's cheek with one gentle hand.

"I'm sorry, Harry. What can I say?" he winced in embarrassment. "I didn't realize I was such an emotional mess," he shrugged.

"Oh, I think that's exaggerating things a bit," Harry chuckled. "You just need to stop worrying and get a couple of good nights' sleep."

"Actually," Tom confessed, "I haven't been sleeping well for a couple of weeks now."

Harry grinned. "Falling in love is a pretty traumatic experience, isn't it?"

Tom blushed. "I guess so. It feels like the first time for me, so I guess it caught me off guard."

"Once you're used to the idea, I think you'll be fine," Harry curled his fingers beneath Tom's chin and pulled him in for a kiss. "Soon you'll be wondering how you ever got along without me." He smiled at Tom's reaction to his words.

Tom was shaking his head and smiling at Harry. "Very sure of yourself, aren't you? Did you know this was going to happen when we first became lovers?"

"Hoped, Tom," Harry amended. "I hoped this would happen and I tried to love you with everything in me so that it *would* happen." He brushed his lips across Tom's again. "Tell me again, Tom. Please?" he whispered against the soft mouth.

Tom just stared wide-eyed at his lover. Oh, God, he thought. Say it, you idiot. Harry deserves it. Say it! "Harry . . . I . . ." he tried, awkwardly.

Harry smiled tenderly. "Do you want me to say it first?" he asked.

Tom just nodded weakly, knowing he was a coward, cringing at the realization.

"Hey," Harry saw that self-doubting expression cloud Tom's eyes. "It's okay, Tom. It's all really new to you. Give yourself some time to get used to the idea. Don't beat yourself up if you can't say it yet. I know you love me. That's what matters." He hugged Tom to him, wrapping his arms around the taller, broader shoulders and pulling his lover into a tight embrace. He nuzzled Tom's neck and whispered right into the curve of his ear, "I love you, Tom."

Tom let Harry wrap him up in his arms. He felt the warmth of Harry's words flow through him, felt a flood of emotion rise up inside him, seeking expression. He pressed his face into Harry's shoulder. "I love you too, Harry," he responded quietly, and sighed in relief at being able to say it again.

A week later, Tom and Chakotay sat talking in the Commander's quarters. Tom was sitting slouched on the sofa, his legs stretched out in front of him, his ankles crossed, relaxed, thoughtful, at ease. Chakotay sat across from him in a well-upholstered easychair, leaning forward on his forearms where they rested along his thighs.

"Well, I think that's a good start," Chakotay was nodding his head. "Maybe as we piece more and more of your childhood memories together we can learn more about the experiences that influenced you the most. It would be interesting to discuss whether you think any of those early experiences affected decisions you made later, at the Academy and after."

"You really think rehashing my past will help me get a hold on this insomnia, don't you?" Tom asked.

"Yes, I do, Tom," Chakotay agreed. "The doctor has already diagnosed the condition as stress-related. Now, we both know that life aboard Voyager is filled with stresses that can't be predicted or avoided. So, we have to help you build better coping mechanisms. The ones you seem to have learned while growing up aren't working for you."

Tom snorted. "You can say that again," he smiled at Chakotay. "Thanks for helping me with this, Commander. Harry and I really appreciate it."

Chakotay smiled back. He was starting to think he could actually get to like Tom Paris. When he let himself be relaxed and open like this he was very easy to get along with; a very charming individual.

"You're a highly valued member of our little Voyager community, Tom. I'm just glad that I'm able to help."

"Yeah, well, your help is what's going to keep me being a valuable member of the community, Commander," Tom acknowledged.

"Tom, I'm just sitting here listening. You're doing all the hard stuff," Chakotay pointed out.

"But I couldn't do it alone. So let me thank you," Tom insisted.

"You're very welcome then, Tom," Chakotay assured him.

When Tom reached his quarters there was no sign of Harry. They hadn't made any definite arrangements on where to meet because Tom hadn't known how long his first counselling session with Chakotay would last.

"Computer, what is the location of Ensign Kim?" he asked.

"Ensign Kim is located in holodeck two," he was informed. Tom quickly changed into a swimsuit and towelling robe and headed for the resort holo-program which was usually running in holodeck two.

He saw the familiar dark head and broad golden shoulders down on the beach as soon as he entered. "Harry," he called as he approached from behind, scuffing his sandalled feet in the sand. Harry turned and smiled at him from his position lounging just above the waterline, where he had been watching a couple sailboarding on the smooth surface of the sea. "Join me for a swim?" Tom asked as he dropped his robe and took a step towards the waves.

"Nah," Harry shook his head. "I'm already waterlogged. You go ahead though. I like to watch you," he grinned up at Tom's tall lithe figure; powerful physique, well-muscled, liberally covered in pale reddish-blonde hair that caught the sun's rays, smooth flow of body movement hinting at a well-honed athleticism. He's a prime specimen of healthy male animal, Harry told himself. And he's all mine, he gloated as he surveyed the tight fit of Tom's royal blue swimsuit.

Tom took a long leisurely swim out towards the horizon and then a long leisurely swim back. Harry watched the pale head and the flashing arms move with almost hypnotic precision through the waves. As Tom left the water he ran his hands back through his hair and shook the excess water out of it. The casual treatment left his head a mass of wild wet curls and Harry felt an overwhelming urge to run his hands through them and then uncover the matching wet curls between Tom's legs and run his hands through them as well. The late afternoon sunlight caught in the water droplets clinging to his body-hair and made Tom's whole figure sparkle. Harry couldn't tear his hungry gaze away.

Tom grinned as he saw Harry's expression. He dropped down beside his lover on the sand. "Stop drooling, Harry," he drawled and turned to watch the surfers.

"Can't help it, lover. You're so drool-worthy," Harry teased.

Tom snorted. "I thought you wanted to hear about my session with Chakotay?" he reminded Harry.

"I do," Harry agreed. "But I can admire you and listen at the same time, can't I?" he smiled.

Tom turned and returned the smile. "I guess so," he conceded pseudo-reluctantly.

Harry's smile softened reassuringly, all teasing forgotten. "How did it go?"

Tom's smile faded into a thoughtful expression. "It went really well. I was surprised, to be honest. Considering our past history, I expected some tension between Chakotay and I, but it wasn't there. We talked about my earliest childhood memories and I was surprised to realize that I have very hazy memories about my mother." He paused to study Harry's rapt expression. "Chakotay was appalled to hear how hazy they actually were. He told me about some of his early memories of his mother, and I found myself envying him, Harry. His memories are so rich and detailed. He remembers so many things about his mother and she's been dead a long time. In comparison, I feel like I hardly knew mine at all."

"Sounds like you discussed some pretty intense feelings," Harry observed quietly.

"Yeah," Tom acknowledged. "And you know, I was afraid of that very thing when we first started; afraid of discussing feelings. I thought there might be some pain back there that I wasn't ready to face. But talking with Chakotay, I don't know, he made it all so easy. We even talked a bit about you and I being together and he thinks it's one of the best things that could have happened to me. How's that for a meeting of the minds?"

"Sounds like you almost enjoyed it," Harry added.

Tom nodded. "In a strange way, I did. It was interesting, not frightening and the time just flew by. We had no problem communicating at all."

Harry smiled. "You still sound surprised."

"Yeah, I guess I am. But, you know what, Harry?" Tom returned Harry's smile. "I'm looking forward to talking to him again next week."

"Good," Harry chuckled softly. "I'm glad, Tom. You look, I don't know, happy, I guess." He shrugged lightly.

"I am happy, Harry," Tom's eyes glowed at him and Harry couldn't resist any longer. He had to touch him.

Harry reached out and wrapped one strong arm around Tom's shoulders, pulling him close. One of Tom's hands came out to steady himself against Harry's chest as Harry's other hand slid into Tom's hair, moulding itself to the shape of his skull. Harry's mouth descended on Tom's lips and the kiss began with an intensity that surprised Tom, considering their present location in a holodeck full of curious crewmembers.

Harry's mouth sucked at Tom's lips and they parted readily. They welcomed the feel of Harry's tongue exploring their contours, tasting their moisture, sliding over them to reach the sharp teeth behind them. Not content yet, Harry folded Tom closer, adjusting the angle of Tom's head with the hand in his hair, and finally dove past the teeth to caress the roof of Tom's mouth insistently and then to lave the eager tongue-mate waiting for him there with a slow, heavy sensuality.

Tom finally managed to gather enough of his scattered senses to get his hands positioned on Harry's shoulders with enough leverage to part them and their mouths. He sat back gasping for air, having forgotten that he could actually breathe through his nose if necessary.

Harry made a small protest at the loss of that delicious mouth and stared at its shining wetness with only one thing in mind; to reattach himself to it at the earliest possible moment.

"Harry!" Tom protested, finally bringing Harry's eyes up to meet his. "We're on the damn holodeck, Harry. I thought this relationship was supposed to be a secret?" he demanded hoarsely.

Harry's slow sensual smile did nothing to ease the tightness of Tom's snug swimsuit over the erection whose emergence during that kiss had been as inevitable as night following day. "I've changed my mind," Harry drawled, his gaze going back to Tom's mouth, then dropping to Tom's crotch, then returning to Tom's eyes. The smile grew broader. "I think it's time to stake my claim publicly."

Tom's eyes widened in surprise. A possessive Harry was a sight to see with that gleam in his eyes and . . . damn, Tom wished Harry would stop licking his lips as if he was readying himself for a four course meal!

Suddenly, they became aware of a pair of smooth shapely feminine legs standing beside them.

"Uh, guys," B'Elanna interrupted them. "Do you think you could manage to *control* yourselves for a minute. This is a *public* beach, you know, and there is at least one minor present," her tone was mocking.

Harry's eyes never left Tom's. "All I did was kiss him, B'Elanna," he complained. "My hands never went below his shoulders."

"They didn't need to, Starfleet," she pointed out sarcastically. "You appeared to be welded together at the mouth for a few minutes there. I'm not sure the folks here were quite ready for that."

Finally, both men looked up at her. "Then they'd better get used to it," Harry drawled, feeling reassured at seeing her indulgent smile. "They're going to be seeing a lot more of it from now on," he promised.

"So, it's like that is it?" she questioned Tom.

"Looks like it," Tom grinned.

"Are congratulations in order?" she teased.

"Oh, I wouldn't go *that* far," Harry laughed.

"Well, I would appreciate it if the two of you didn't go any further than you already have while you're still here on the holodeck," she requested. "If you can't keep your hands off him, Harry, take him home, for goodness' sake!" She couldn't suppress the twinkle in her eyes any longer and started to giggle.

The sound of the usually fierce half-Klingon woman giggling held Tom and Harry spellbound as they watched B'Elanna give into mirth. Then it finally dawned on them that she was laughing at *them*.

"Well," Harry stood with a practised huff. "I'm not staying around here to be ridiculed. Let's go, Tom." Harry held out his hand to his lover.

"Uh, Harry," Tom mumbled, blushing. "I have a little problem here. I'm not exactly in any condition to walk anywhere." He gestured to his painfully tight swimsuit.

Harry knelt down at Tom's side and gathered up the discarded beach robe. He pulled it around Tom's shoulders and helped him into it.

"This will hide anything you don't want to advertise," he pointed out. "And if you can't walk, I can try and carry you," he grinned.

Tom snorted in derision. "Riiight . . ." he drawled sarcastically. "I think I'll take my chances walking after all. We'll just have to take it nice and slow." He shrugged into the robe and tied it loosely as he slipped on his sandals. He watched Harry pull on a heavy oversized t-shirt that came down over the tops of his thighs to cover most of his conservative swim trunks. "Gods, Harry, you have the longest legs," he observed almost admiringly.

"That's enough of that!" B'Elanna demanded. "Out!" she pointed forcefully with one hand towards the holodeck doors. "And don't come back until you've cooled off!" she ordered with mock-severity.

Harry chuckled as the three of them left the sands and moved towards the doors. "You might never see us again, B'Elanna," he chided.

"Oh, brother," she groaned and pushed them out into the corridor. "Give me a break, already."

Harry put his arm around Tom's shoulders possessively. Tom slipped his arm around Harry's slim waist. B'Elanna watched them amble slowly towards the turbolift, shaking her head in amusement. Men!

Once in Tom's quarters, both men moved instinctively to the shower to get rid of the salt and sand from the holodeck. They soaped each other slowly and thoroughly.

"Remember the first time we did this?" Tom asked, running his hands over Harry's smooth chest, leaning down to taste the cooling water on Harry's warm skin.

"You didn't want to come in the shower, if I remember correctly," Harry drawled. Each time Harry had reached for Tom's erection over the past five minutes, he had been forestalled by a determined hand.

"I don't want to come in the shower tonight, either," Tom confirmed. "Not when we can have so much more fun by waiting until we reach the bed."

"Oh, I'm not arguing," Harry quickly assured his lover. "I bow to your superior expertise."

"Hey, don't abuse the reputation of my lover like that," Tom complained playfully. "Your expertise is just as superior in every way," Tom turned off the shower and pulled Harry out to get dried. "I'm just a little more determined to get my own way than you are," he confessed. "You always give in to me."

"Can't help it," Harry agreed ruefully, drying quickly, his eyes never leaving that pale lean body. "I'm helpless in your arms, lover."

"Mmmmm . . ." Tom's mind was getting to the point where conversation was becoming difficult. He was dying to get his mouth on Harry's body. And all his energies at the moment were concentrated on getting Harry onto his back on the bed so that he could achieve his goal. To that end, he gave Harry a gentle push in that direction.

Harry, on the other hand, was feeling quite talkative. He knew that this wouldn't last long. Once Tom got his mouth on Harry's body he would be a prisoner to it and what it was going to do to him. But, for now, he felt like teasing Tom a bit more before they really got down to business. He wondered, seeing the look in Tom's eyes, if it was still possible to distract him.

"B'Elanna was telling me earlier this afternoon that the two of you had quite the heart-to-heart in Sandrine's while I was away. At 0200 hours, I think she said. What were you and B'Elanna doing in Sandrine's at 0200 hours, may I ask?" Harry's tone was suggestive.

Tom looked up as he settled on the bed, surprised by the choice of pillow-talk. Surely Harry didn't think . . .?

"Didn't she tell you?" Tom blinked.

"She said she was keeping an eye on you," Harry drawled. "I asked her why she felt the need to check on you at that hour of the morning and all she did was smile. So . . . I'm asking *you*." Harry stared pointedly into Tom's wide eyes.

"Harry," Tom shook his head in bewilderment. "Next to me, B'Elanna Torres is your closest friend on board Voyager," he pointed out patiently.

"Yeah, you two are my very best friends, I agree," Harry was trying to keep his face expressionless. He *loved* teasing Tom. "And since I went on that away mission the two of you have been positively *friendly* towards each other. I'm starting to wonder why? Exactly what happened in Sandrine's that morning, *lover*?" Harry's raised eyebrows were a work of art.

"Harry . . ." Tom started laughing helplessly. He pulled his lover down onto the bed beside him. "Harry, that morning in Sandrine's I told B'Elanna that I was in love with you!" he confessed. How in the hell could Harry be so dense?

"And that's all?" Harry asked, trying hard to sound suspicious. He thought he did a creditable job.

"Harry . . ." Tom's amazement was comical. "Harry, I am madly in love with you, you idiot! What the hell has B'Elanna got to do with it?"

"She told me that if I hadn't been on the scene, she thought that you and she might have gotten a lot closer than you have," Harry said, nodding meaningfully.

"Yeah . . ." Tom admitted, wondering exactly what B'Elanna had said. This *could* be tricky. "She said something about having thought that, but we both agreed that you were the person we cared about the most, not each other." He mentally crossed his fingers for that fib and the next. "Hell, she even told me she thought I was a very lucky man to have you!" Tom said in exasperation, hoping Harry couldn't call him on that one. "Come on, Harry. You can't seriously believe I'd prefer B'Elanna to you?"

"Whether I believe it or not isn't the point," Harry growled convincingly at his lover. "The point is that you're not going to get the chance to find out. Not if I have anything to say about it."

"Harry," Tom laughed again at the sheer absurdity of the conversation. "I don't want anyone but you. I haven't wanted anyone but you from the moment I first held you in my arms. And *that's* the plain unvarnished and undisputed truth!"

"Good," Harry smiled smugly. "Besides, there isn't anything that B'Elanna can do with her dildo that I can't do better," he bragged with exaggerated pride. He watched Tom's eyebrows take a turbolift to his hairline.

"WHAT?!" Tom shrieked.

Tom's eyes were practically bugging out of his head and Harry couldn't control himself any longer. He started to laugh and once started he absolutely could *not* stop. He collapsed onto the mattress helplessly, holding his aching stomach muscles.

It took a while, but after a few long moments of staring open-mouthed in shock and horror at Harry laughing his guts out, Tom began to clue in to the fact that he had been royally duped. Immediately, his mind turned to revenge. Sweet revenge.

"Maybe I could persuade her to join us some evening so that I can compare your different techniques," he suggested with a sly smile.

Harry's laughter cut off abruptly. He grabbed Tom and pushed him onto the bed beside him and then threw himself down on top of Tom, pleasing that man no end. "Don't you even *think* about it," Harry growled.

"Shut up and kiss me," Tom ordered.

Harry complied with enthusiasm, getting lost within moments in the taste and texture of Tom's mouth, and finally having to succumb to the need to suck on that wonderfully mobile tongue. He moved both hands into Tom's hair and adjusted the angle of Tom's head. He took hold of those curls and hung on tight to the feeling of them between his fingers. Then he commenced to suck on Tom's tongue with a hunger bordering on starvation, trying to consume the organ whole. He moaned in delight as Tom let him continue until both their jaws ached.

Finally they drew apart and Harry buried his head in Tom's neck, panting. "Oh, God, Tom," he drew in deep rasping breaths. "I'm so damn hungry for you, it's killing me," he confessed.

"I'm not going anywhere, love. What do you want?" Tom's hands soothed Harry's back, trying to calm him.

"Everything," Harry clutched at Tom's shoulders, kneading the muscles distractedly.

"Well, we've got all night, Harry. Let's start at the beginning and work our way around. You know you can have the whole damn cookie jar. Anything I have is yours," Tom assured him.

"Oh, Tom," Harry moaned. "I love you so much."

"Then show me, Harry," Tom encouraged. No point waiting any longer. It was only proving to be an unnecessary torment.

"I can't . . . I can't . . ." Harry tried to explain his desperation, his need.

"Don't worry about it, Harry," Tom urged. "Take it. Take what you need."

Harry needed no further urging. He slid down between Tom's thighs and moved them apart. Then without a pause he swallowed Tom's erection and began to suck as strongly, as desperately, as he had sucked Tom's tongue. Steadily he devoured Tom, cradling his lover's scrotum in one hand, the other wrapped around the base of his penis. Foreplay was over. Harry had one goal. He wanted it. He needed it. He was hungry for Tom.

Tom arched beneath the onslaught. This was going to be quick and explosive. He tried to relax and let Harry take him, but it wasn't easy with that hungry insistent mouth pulling every ounce of blood and sensation towards his aching groin. His concerns became irrelevant as his erection hardened unbearably, the skin of his scrotum quivered with tension, and a spike of pleasure released it all. His semen flowed into Harry's waiting mouth and throat with powerful pulses, Tom sobbing Harry's name over and over again. Har-ry, Har-ry, Har-ry . . . he hiccupped weakly, letting his body take over from his mind for those few precious seconds of delirium. Then he sagged onto the sheets and Harry released him from his mouth, continuing to pet and lick until Tom couldn't stand it any longer and reached down to pull Harry up into his arms.

Tom let Harry kiss him. He couldn't do much about it, he felt so weak. He hoped that wouldn't last long. Harry would be urging him to take him very, very soon. And he could never resist Harry when he set his mind on something.

Harry, however, had something else on his mind. He pulled back from Tom's mouth, gasping, "Tom, I need to be inside you. Now!"

Tom moved back to put some space between them. He saw the hunger in Harry's eyes and reached out to feel the swollen need of Harry's body. Harry laid a trembling hand on Tom's hip. Tom smiled and immediately turned onto his stomach. He felt Harry move to kneel between his legs and spread them wider. He took a deep steadying breath and pushed himself up onto his hands and knees.

"Oh, God," Harry groaned when presented with Tom's backside.

"Like this, Harry?" Tom sent a teasing smile back over his shoulder at his lover.

"Yes!" Harry gasped, his anxious hands already kneading the pale curved flesh of Tom's ass. "Oh, yes!" He reached for the lubricant and dropped it. "Shit," he groaned.

Tom chuckled and retrieved it. Handing it back to Harry, he tried to calm him. "Steady there, Harry."

Harry's trembling slicked hands caressed and stretched Tom with the quick moves of long practice. He hated being this anxious, but his body and mind didn't seem to be listening to each other and he was soon sobbing with the effort to not rush this.

Tom turned, concerned with Harry's silence, broken only by muffled sounds. When he saw the tightly clenched jaw muscles, the quivering lips and the moisture on Harry's brow he decided to take a hand in the proceedings.

"Harry!" Tom spoke sharply, bringing Harry's head up and his wide eyes to Tom's face in an instant. "Do it! *Now!*" His gaze pierced the haze that Harry had been suffering through. Something in Tom's eyes released him from the need for restraint. Tom had rarely looked more serious about anything. Harry rushed to obey Tom and the needs of his own body.

He moved up behind Tom and positioned himself. Holding onto Tom's hip with one hand he pushed at the same time as Tom moved forcefully back against him, and they came together in one long smooth joining. Harry shook with the heat, the pleasure, the overwhelming knowledge of being inside the man whom he felt owned him, body and soul, and it was too much. Harry's control was gone. He came explosively inside Tom, shuddering and sobbing Tom's name incoherently, finally collapsing onto Tom's back, clutching Tom's shoulders as if afraid he would lose him.

Tom sank onto the bed with Harry's heavy weight on top of him. He longed to hold Harry's shivering body in his arms, but knew that his lover always sought to stay connected physically as long as possible after coitus. He lay still beneath Harry, murmuring words of love and reassurance to him.

"Hang on, Harry. Hang on tight. I'm here, love. I'm not going anywhere. Just hang on to me. I love you, Harry. Hold me tight. Never let me go."

Harry just moaned and shivered and pressed his flushed face into Tom's back until he could breathe normally again. His trembling finally eased as his heartbeat returned to normal. His limp penis slid out of Tom's body and Harry moved slowly to lay beside Tom on the bed. As soon as his shoulder touched the mattress, Tom was pulling him into his arms in a fierce embrace, fitting their bodies together closely, nuzzling and kissing Harry as he continued to murmur endearments in lower and lower tones until he was just whispering Harry's name, over and over again.

"Harry. Harry. Harry . . ."

Harry finally reached over and placed his fingers against Tom's lips. They were kissed gently. Harry smiled into his lover's eyes. Tom gazed back adoringly.

"I'm a fool," Harry murmured.

"Yeah? I'm glad I'm not the only one," Tom chuckled.

"That was . . ." Harry began.

"Quick?" Tom teased with a grin. "Intense?"

"I hate you," Harry groused with a wry smile.

"Yeah," Tom wagged his eyebrows. "And you do a really thorough job of it too." He started to snicker and Harry soon joined him. As their laughter died a natural death they both sighed and snuggled into more comfortable positions against each other's bodies.

"I need a rest," Harry confessed.

"I'm not surprised," Tom yawned. "Let's catch forty winks before dinner, okay?"

"Fine by me," Harry yawned too and closed his eyes on the sight of his lover's lashes settled on his beautiful face in preparation for sleep.

They took a relatively short nap as naps go and then got cleaned up and headed down to the mess hall to meet B'Elanna for dinner. Quite a few heads turned as they entered, but conversation didn't stop. In fact, it increased exponentially. B'Elanna waved them over to where she was sitting with Chakotay and they soon joined the pair.

"So, it looks like everybody knows," Chakotay nodded to the tables of chattering crewmembers.

"That's right," confirmed Harry as they sat down.

Tom pulled his chair close and placed one hand on Harry's shoulder as they both surveyed the room, smiling at anyone who deliberately caught their eyes. "We didn't see any reason to keep quiet about it any longer," Tom said as his eyes came back to meet Chakotay's approving smile.

"The sooner everyone starts treating us like a couple the better we'll like it," Harry declared and turned to look at Tom. They ended up smiling into each other's eyes for a minute that never seemed to end. They only looked around when B'Elanna cleared her throat loudly.

"You guys are going to have to stop doing that," she scolded.

"Uh, doing what?" Tom looked blank.

"Staring into each other's eyes like you are the only two people in the universe," she explained with amused exasperation. "It really kills the conversation."

"Oh," Harry glanced at Tom and smiled. He saw Tom's smile and quickly glanced away. "Sorry, B'Elanna," he grinned sheepishly. "It's kind of involuntary. We just . . ."

"Yes, yes," she broke in. "You just can't help yourselves, I suppose," she continued with disgust.

Both men smiled at her. "Something like that," Tom agreed with a wide grin.

"Oh, hell, I don't know whether I can handle this," B'Elanna growled, looking from one glowing face to the other. "You two look so damn . . ."

"Happy?" Tom supplied. He glanced at Chakotay, who was grinning now. Probably thinks we're acting like a couple of undisciplined adolescents, Tom thought. And he'd be right!

"Yes," Chakotay agreed. "Happy."

Tom and Harry looked at each other again. "You're absolutely right," Tom said.

Despite the fact that they both secretly wanted to do nothing more than return to their quarters to make love again, they moved with the crowd from the mess hall to Sandrine's, socialized, played pool, and made themselves accessible to anyone who wanted to come over to their table and comment on their new status as a couple. Chakotay and B'Elanna sat back and watched, feeling almost parental.

Even the Captain couldn't resist an indulgent smile when she popped in for a drink later in the evening and caught Tom with his arm wrapped possessively around Harry's shoulders, holding him close, and Harry, leaning against him with his head resting on Tom's broad chest, his eyes closed, a small satisfied smile on his face.

The consensus among most of the crew that evening was that despite the incongruity of it, they made a surprisingly sweet-looking pair. The pair would have been gratified to hear that these saccharine comments were ably balanced by the rampant speculation about which one was the top and which one was the bottom. The Delaney sisters entered at some point during the evening, took one look and left in disgust.

Eventually, there were just the four of them left: Chakotay, B'Elanna, Tom and Harry. Harry and B'Elanna were playing pool. Tom was coaching Harry. Chakotay watched from their table. Tom stepped up behind Harry to adjust the grip on his cue and reposition his arm. B'Elanna sighed and both men looked up questioningly.

"I asked you guys not to do that in front of me," B'Elanna ground out in a low warning voice.

"Do what?" Tom asked, bewildered. Then he realized what she meant. He was pressed pretty intimately up against Harry's backside. He hadn't noticed he was doing it, the action was just so unconsciously natural by now. "I didn't realize I was doing it, B'Elanna. Honestly," he apologized, straightening, but not moving away from Harry's body. "But now that you mention it . . ." Tom wrapped his arms around Harry and slowly pulled him back, fitting them even closer together. Harry's fingers dropped the pool cue and he automatically shifted his weight to intensify the contact even further. "I think it's that time again, Harry," Tom managed a throaty whisper as he felt Harry's co-operation. Tom's hands started to slowly move down the front of Harry's body.

"Don't you dare!" B'Elanna roared. Both men looked up startled, to see her with both hands over her eyes. "Get out of here while I can still control myself or I won't be held responsible for my actions," she threatened.

"B'Elanna . . ." Tom began, half laughing in surprise.

"Get out!" B'Elanna ordered. She removed her hands and flashed them a fierce glare.

"Whatever you say, B'Elanna," Harry moved away from the pool table quickly. He grabbed Tom by the arm and dragged him towards the door. "Goodnight, Commander," Harry grinned at Chakotay as he got behind Tom and pushed.

"But . . ." Tom tried to argue.

"Move it, Tom," Harry urged.

"All right," Tom grumbled and allowed himself to be pushed. "But I don't see what has B'Elanna so steamed . . ."

"You don't argue with ladies who outrank you, Tom," Harry hissed. "Night, B'Elanna," he called and finally managed to get Tom into the corridor.

Once the doors closed, Chakotay hazarded a question. "Are you okay, B'Elanna?" He got up from the table and came towards her.

She sighed. "I seem to have a very short fuse when it comes to those two," she confessed. She started putting away the pool equipment. "I probably just need to get laid," she muttered, half under her breath and then wished she had kept that observation inside her head. She hadn't realized how close Chakotay had gotten until he spoke practically right behind her.

"Can I volunteer?" he joked mildly, smiling at her with a hint of speculation in his expression.

B'Elanna spun around and pinned him with her eyes. The invitation hung between them for long moments. She was sorely tempted. She and Chakotay had been good together once.

Under her fierce scrutiny, Chakotay raised his hands in surrender, trying to physically indicate his intention to allow her to be the aggressor. "No strings attached," he vowed.

B'Elanna was even more tempted by the sight of Chakotay with hands raised. But, she decided it was too great a risk to take. Not on Voyager, she thought to herself. She pulled herself together with difficulty, and smiled tightly back at him.

"Thanks, Chakotay, but I think I'll just stick around here and practice. See you tomorrow," she turned her back and started setting up for a difficult shot. She didn't turn around when Chakotay finally moved away.

"Goodnight, B'Elanna," he called from the doorway.

She turned and with a grimace replied "goodnight," and then deliberately went back to her shot. When she heard the doors slide closed she turned to check that he was actually gone and then heaved a heavy sigh.

"Computer," she commanded, "end program currently in use. Run program Torres Alpha 323 and engage privacy lock."

"Privacy lock engaged," the computer announced as Sandrine's shimmered and disappeared to be replaced with a hot steaming jungle and three paths branching off into it from where B'Elanna stood. She quickly stripped off her uniform and then ran off down the center pathway.

B'Elanna ran until she was just slightly winded and then stopped to get her bearings. It had been a while since she'd felt the need to use this program and it took her a minute to remember where the paths led. She heard a rustling in the undergrowth to her right. A feral grin lit up her face and she turned towards the sounds just as a tall naked heavily-muscled Klingon male launched himself at her and tackled her to the ground.

She spat and hissed and clawed at him, fighting to free herself with all her strength. She managed to get away from him, but turned when she was only a few feet from him and growled low in her throat. The male froze in his tracks and growled back ominously. B'Elanna's feral smile just grew broader and she launched herself at him, biting his face hard enough to draw both blood and a mighty bellow from the male. In minutes she was pinned to the ground beneath him and she started to laugh. It was a glorious, uproarious sound and she continued to laugh, loud and long, as the prime example of holographic Klingon manhood demonstrated his mating prowess, until finally she screeched with the ecstasy of her orgasm. Then she started laughing all over again.

Tom let Harry push him into the turbolift.

"Do you think B'Elanna is all right, Harry? I've never seen her get so angry so fast," he confessed. "What do you think got into her?"

"She wasn't angry, Tom," Harry muttered. He didn't want to discuss this, but it looked as if Tom hadn't figured it out for himself yet.

"She wasn't? She sure looked mad as hell to me," Tom shuddered theatrically.

"Tom, have you ever considered how all the different crewmembers of different species aboard Voyager handle their sexual needs?" Harry tried to ease into the topic. Maybe Tom would get the hint.

"What?!" Tom just looked baffled at the change of topic.

Harry sighed loudly. They got off on deck four and headed to Tom's quarters. "Tom, I guess I'm just going to have to be blunt about this," he decided out loud.

"Please do," Tom advised in amusement. He wondered where this conversation was leading. Since when was Harry interested in interspecies sex?

"Tom, B'Elanna has admitted to being attracted to you," Harry pointed out gently.

"Yeah," he agreed, "she did." Tom still didn't know what Harry was saying.

"Well, look at it from her perspective, Tom. You were making some pretty blatant sexual moves on me there in Sandrine's, you know. And who knows how long it's been since she's been with somebody. B'Elanna's a very private person, you know, and she's got a lot of self-image problems because of her half-human half-Klingon heritage. She doesn't make intimate friends easily." Harry hoped he didn't have to say any more.

Tom stared at Harry in growing comprehension. "You mean watching me come onto you . . ."

"Yeah," Harry nodded. "I think so. I got the feeling if I didn't get you out of there fast, she was going to give you an intimate taste of the Klingon Mating Ritual."

"Gods, Harry, I didn't mean . . ." Tom started to explain.

"I know that, Tom. And she knows that, too. In fact, she's probably going to be awfully embarrassed tomorrow about ordering us out of Sandrine's like that. She'll feel she needs to apologize."

"Well, it's not as if it's her fault," Tom conceded. "If it was anyone's fault, I guess it was mine."

"Well, the two of you can argue about whose fault it was tomorrow," Harry led Tom into his quarters. "Right now I want you to forget you know anybody's name but mine," he ordered as he pushed Tom towards the bedroom.

Tom went, laughing, "Harry, who needs a domineering Klingon when I have you?"

Harry pushed Tom down onto the bed. "That's right," he agreed. Then he gave a command, "Computer, lights out. Full illumination in bathroom only."

It took Tom a minute or two to adjust to the total darkness surrounding him, with the exception of the doorway into the bathroom, which backlit Harry like a spotlight as he stood in front of it pulling off a sock. As he watched, Harry began to hum something under his breath, and from the sounds coming from Harry's heavily shadowed form, he could tell that Harry was unbuttoning his shirt now.

Sure enough, Harry's shirt slowly slid down his arms and dropped to the floor. Tom watched as Harry's hands moved to his waist. He listened to the rustling of cloth again, and then Harry's pants started slowly sliding off his hips to land in a puddle around his feet. Harry stepped out of them and pushed them aside with one foot. All that was left were Harry's briefs and Tom watched fascinated as Harry slid his hands inside the waistband, at the hips, and then slowly slid them down until they too slipped to the floor. Harry stepped forward out of them and then stood absolutely still, naked, waiting.

"Come here," Tom murmured. Harry took one slow step after another, fluid, graceful, languid, until he stood right in front of Tom. Tom reached out and placed his hands on Harry's hips and pulled him in between his own legs until he was close enough to press his lips to that gentle curve at Harry's waist. He wrapped his arms around Harry and pressed his face to his lover's skin. "I love you, Harry," Tom whispered into the darkness there, hidden from the light, in Harry's shadow.

Harry reached down and cupped Tom's face in his hands. He lifted Tom's face and looked down into the shadows, but couldn't see those beloved blue eyes. He knelt in one swift movement and the light from over his shoulder hit Tom full in the face, causing him to close his eyes from the sudden brightness. Harry waited. Tom opened his eyes again and looked down into Harry's face from his vantage sitting on the side of the bed to where Harry knelt on the floor. Harry looked up into those eyes and sighed at their beauty and at the expression in them.

"Tom . . ." Harry started to whisper his feelings, but they were too overwhelming. He just pulled the face down to his and joined their mouths. Tom would look after the rest, he knew.

Tom stilled as Harry joined their mouths, but it was a passive kind of contact that told Tom clearly what his lover wanted. He wanted Tom to prove his possession. Harry wanted to be taken. Tom's nerves jumped a bit in anticipation. He wanted it too; to take Harry and overwhelm him with passion and tenderness. First things first though; Tom took control of the kiss.

Tom's hands came up to cup Harry's face and Harry immediately dropped his own hands and closed his eyes. Total submission to Tom's desires, putty in Tom's hands; that was Harry's goal. It always brought him more ecstasy than he knew how to deal with, but that's what he needed tonight; to be Tom's, completely.

Harry relaxed against Tom and gave up his mouth. Tom pulled Harry closer, tilted his head and took possession. He explored the soft lips, first with his own lips and then with his tongue; tasting, teasing, worshipping, devouring; total concentration on the beauty of Harry's lush lips.

Tom finally pulled back and surveyed the damage. Harry's lips were swollen, his mouth was hanging open as he breathed heavily. Harry's eyes opened, but they were heavy-lidded, dazed, vulnerable. Tom bent and kissed each eyelid shut tenderly. He pressed kisses across Harry's damp brow and licked at the hair where it grew away from his temple. Harry tasted of sweat and shampoo. His body heat was making the scent of his arousal rise like a cloud around them. With one last tender, fleeting caress to Harry's lips, Tom pulled him up to stand in front of him. He stood himself and then pushed Harry down onto the bed.

Harry lay down and watched through barely opened eyes as Tom shed his clothes. The light from the room behind him made Tom's naked form look huge and dark and menacing, but Harry felt only a shiver of anticipation as the shape of his lover moved towards him.

Tom placed one knee on the bed and said, "Move over." Harry shifted immediately. Tom lay down next to Harry and pulled him close, but he couldn't see Harry's face in the darkness. "Computer," he ordered, "cut illumination of bathroom, raise illumination in bedroom to 20 percent." The lights came up in the room and Tom found himself returning Harry's dark gaze. They stared at each other for a long moment, then Harry licked his lips. Tom smiled and bent his head to kiss Harry again, more carefully this time.

He slid onto Harry's body, propping himself up with his elbows, moving between Harry's thighs, which parted eagerly for him. Harry and he both moaned at the voluptuous feeling of their erections rubbing against each other as their pelvises met. They writhed against each other, enjoying the sensations, kissing languidly. Tom covered Harry's face and neck and shoulders with warm, wet kisses, while Harry whispered his name.

Moving down to Harry's chest, Tom let his tongue trail over Harry's nipples gently. Harry whimpered. Yes, Tom knew what Harry wanted. Harry wanted him to suck. Tom smiled as he wondered just who was submitting to whose desires, and then he bent to his task, to please his Harry, even as he pleased himself. He loved the texture of Harry's nipples.

Tom teased Harry's navel next and then dove, face first, into Harry's pubic hair. He nosed into the curls, nudged Harry's penis, nuzzled the scrotum and placed slow soft lingering kisses everywhere he could reach. Harry braced his feet on the mattress and lifted himself for Tom's exploration, reaching for that tantalizing mouth, moaning, sighing, occasionally crying out with pleasure. Tom was drowning in the sounds of Harry being loved; drowning in the scent, and taste and response of Harry's body.

Pulling himself up onto his knees, Tom moved into position to take Harry's penis into his mouth. But first, he threaded his fingers through Harry's pubic hair, letting the curls cling to his fingers as he massaged all around Harry's scrotum and penis. Slowly he cupped the sac in one hand and slid the fingers of the other around the base of Harry's penis. Holding Harry steady, literally in the palms of his hands, he bent and began to lick gently, and kiss softly, and then he opened his mouth and slid Harry inside.

Harry lay still, quivering, whimpering as Tom sucked on him, sending wave after wave of pleasure into Harry, until he couldn't hold still any longer and thrust against Tom's strong grip, his head moving restlessly against the pillows. Tom immediately released him and Harry cried out, a pitiful sound of longing and need.

Tom sat back and Harry's eyes met his, wide open and pleading with him. Tom smiled gently and moved to get the lubricant. Harry immediately lifted his legs, still holding them apart, ready, eager, begging for Tom's possession. Tom froze, kneeling there with Harry displayed before him and found he couldn't keep quiet a moment longer. He had to tell Harry how this made him feel.

Tom moved to caress and support Harry with trembling hands. "I love looking at you like this, Harry," Tom whispered, his voice not quite steady. "You are so beautiful. So terribly beautiful. It's scary how much I like to look at you in this position, Harry. So vulnerable. So much *mine*. Ready and waiting for *me*." Tom reached for one of the pillows and slid it into position to support his lover.

Hearing Tom's words, Harry smiled, his eyes dark and clear like glass, reflecting what Tom was feeling. He lay still beneath Tom's hands, soaking up the caresses to his thighs and buttocks; moaning that sweet Harry-moan as Tom slowly bent and laid his lips on that tender opening in a tender kiss. He quivered and Tom kissed more ardently, sliding his tongue wetly around the opening, and then probing against the tight muscle. Harry whispered Tom's name quietly, voice choked with emotion. Tom finally pulled back and looked into Harry's wide-eyed gaze again.

"This is really it, Harry. I *know* this is love because at this moment I can't imagine any other person, man or woman, who could ever be as goddamn beautiful as you are right now. I'm going to be imagining you like this in my mind's eye long after I'm too old to do anything about it."

Harry watched as Tom lubricated his fingers and moved to stretch Harry with them. He relaxed completely under Tom's hands and let his lover prepare him. He watched as Tom prepared himself and then sighed as they were finally joined with the same passionate tenderness.

Tom moved over Harry, making the connection deeper, starting with the first long smooth strokes into Harry's body, soon finding the perfect angle and the perfect rhythm to increase the intensity of the pleasure they were both experiencing. The heat of their bodies rose higher, the tautness of their muscles tighter, the gnawing need for release, for the completion of their union, driving them now beyond thought and into pure instinct.

Harry's erection thrust slickly against Tom's belly as Tom drove them onward to the peak of excitement. Harry's muscles clutched him, rippled around him, bringing him right to the edge. Tom's head swam with the feeling of impending release. Beneath him, Harry met each thrust with frantic movements of his own, crying, reaching for Tom, urging him on with wordless moaning sounds.

Tom took a deep breath and drove his whole weight into Harry's waiting heat. He was so close to losing it, he could feel himself trembling all over. He plunged again, and Harry suddenly gasped and cried out Tom's name. He cried out Tom's name even louder and Tom thrust one more time, diving into Harry's body, letting the shudders take him, letting the wave of ecstasy wash over him even as Harry's semen spurted against his chest. They clutched and cried and shook together, joined in the magnificent pleasure of the moment. Tom was the first one to start whispering 'I love you, I love you' over and over again and then Harry joined him. The cadence of their voices rose and fell, interspersed with their sighs of happiness and contentment.

An hour or so later, after another shower together, this time a relaxing one, they changed the sheets on the bed and then crawled in to cuddle and caress each other into sleep.

But before long, Tom was awake again, sighing. He watched Harry sleeping by the light from the viewport, barely able to make out the features of his beautiful profile. Was it only two weeks ago that he had stayed up half the night trying to figure out what he felt for Harry? So little time for such a big change in his life to have occurred.

Harry groaned and turned over. His eyes fluttered and came open, widening as he saw Tom watching him, wide awake. His gaze softened. "Can't sleep?" he asked. "I thought we had conquered that problem."

"Guess not," Tom grimaced, then shrugged.

"Got any of the sleeping medication left that the doc gave you?" Tom nodded reluctantly. "Go take some and then come back here and let me soothe you back to sleep," Harry ordered. Tom got up and did as Harry asked. It was no hardship. Harry loved him.

When Tom returned they settled down again, Tom holding Harry close against him, Harry nuzzling Tom's neck, cheek and ear, murmurring loving sounds and gentle words of encouragement. Tom lay listening to the murmur of Harry's voice, trying to let it lull him into sleep, but his mind had other ideas, and his thoughts whirled and built into words and he finally decided if he was going to stay awake he might as well speak them.

"So, you want to get married, Harry?" was the first astonishing thing he found spilling from his lips. There was a stunned silence. Tom began to regret that he had ever opened his mouth.

"Uh, not right away, Tom," Harry finally answered, sounding a little shocked.

"What? I'm not good enough for you?" Tom was afraid that the truth of that little statement had leaked into his attempt to make a joke of it. But when his glance met Harry's, he saw the love there, and a smile started to build on his lips and soon Harry was grinning back at him and the words became the joke they were meant to be. They laughed softly at each other.

"Uh, I think I'd like a little time to get used to being your boyfriend first," Harry teased with a face that tried to stay straight, except for the twitching of one corner of his mouth that gave him away.

"My what?!" Tom was still taken aback at Harry's joke, hoping that it *was* a joke.

"Uh . . . boyfriend?" Harry repeated. The twitch became a grin.

Tom wasn't taking any chances. "Harry, you are not, under any circumstances, to tell anyone on board Voyager that you are my *boyfriend*. Sheesh. Where do you get these archaic expressions?" He frowned at his lover, but was ambushed by the same kind of comic twitch at the corner of his mouth that had plagued Harry.

Harry thought, what the hell, let's go all-out crazy, and said, "What would you prefer I call you? My snuggle-bunny?" His grin had split his whole face by now.

Tom tried to scowl. He really did. "Lover, Harry. The term is 'lover'. Use it. Or else." He tried to growl and ended up coughing to stop from laughing at Harry's grin.

"Lover it is then, Tom." Harry suddenly acquiesced. He was too happy. He couldn't help it.

Tom acknowledged his victory. He had saved the best for last. "Yeah. Until you want to start using 'husband'."

Harry's eyes went wide. It suddenly occurred to him that Tom was *not* kidding. "Oh, God, Tom." Harry was speechless for a moment.

"You let me know when you're ready and we'll change it. Permanently." Tom's gaze was brilliant.

The sky on earth had never been so blue, thought Harry. He couldn't stand it. He had to say something to break the tension or he was going to cry, he knew it. He stared at Tom and then said the first thing that came into his head.

"Would that make me Mr. or Mrs. Paris, Tom?"

Tom laughed. He shook his head in playful warning. "You're really asking for it, aren't you?"

"Are you going to give it to me?" Harry smiled happily.

Harry felt much more comfortable now. The other, well, he'd have to think about that. It was just too wonderful, too precious, too important, not to give it very careful thought. Then again, maybe he should say yes now, just to be sure the offer didn't disappear overnight, and then think about it afterwards.

Tom realized he wasn't going to get an answer to his question right away, but thought maybe he could do some salespitching that Harry couldn't resist. All's fair in love, after all.

"Come over here and you'll find out, you troublemaker," Tom threatened.

Harry could see the wheels turning in Tom's brain. That was okay. "Oh, I like this kind of trouble, Tom," he assured his lover.

"I kinda thought you did. You're always getting into it."

Harry laughed. Everything was going to be wonderful, if he could just put up with Tom's jokes long enough to say 'I do'. "That was a terrible pun, Tom," he admonished his lover, even as he cozied up to his muscular frame in the warm bed.

"Yeah," Tom couldn't resist a swift kiss. "But you loved it just the same."

The End

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